


Mr. Business: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Mafia

by oliverbaphomet



Category: GoopCast, Misfits, SMPLive, jschlatt - Fandom
Genre: Businessmen, Character Death, Comedy, Corrupt Businessmen, Evil, However still comedic in some aspects, Mafia AU, Multi, Transformation from a good main character into a ruthless and cunning person, Violence, long fic, mafia, mob, never WILL be a shipping fic, not a shipping fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2020-10-13 05:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20576867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliverbaphomet/pseuds/oliverbaphomet
Summary: A muffled voice sounded from the background, murky and faint as it if was drifting through swirling water. “Give us your name and info, and tell us everything.”A pause.“My name is Jonathan Schlatt. I’m 5’9 and turned 25 in August, and I weigh 168 pounds. I… I own a company named Schlatt and Co, and I started it about a year ago with my best friend, Connor...”





	1. The Truth Serum

**Author's Note:**

> chapter numero one of a very long saga! enjoy :)

The darkness was almost blinding, strips of night taken straight from the sky as they bent around the singular light source in the room. The lamp that hung from he ceiling was barely working, flashing and faltering as it swung lazily back and forth, each movement letting out a low creak of metal on concrete. Gray, everything was gray inside, the floor and the walls and the intimidating metal door that lay dormant off to the side. 

And the chair that sat in the middle of the room, small and out-of-place among the frigidness of everything else, was also gray. It was a thick, chiseled wood piece, worn out around the edges and peppered with nicks and gouges. Small, homely, sturdy. The chair held a man. 

Schlatt opened his eyes slowly, first his right eye, then the left. His vision was swimming, dancing before him, bending the gray into varying shades of blue and pink. His neck was sore, his face stung, and he could feel a pressure on his ribs, digging into his stomach and chest. Looking down carefully, he let out a guttural sigh that echoed throughout the small space. 

“Agh, shit.” He croaked, surprised at how raspy his voice felt as it bubbled up from his dry throat. “Ropes and chains. Veeery inventive.” 

From the other side of the door, there was no answer. Schlatt could feel a low, throbbing panic start to build in his stomach, and he willed it down quickly, instead taking a deep breath and glancing around at his confines. The chair was free-moving, not attached to the ground, and his dark eyes lit up as he braced himself. 

“One... two... three!” He muttered, swiftly kicking sideways against the ground with both legs, scuffed dress shoes slamming against the concrete floor. The chair scraped eagerly to the left, and Schlatt grinned radiantly, tensing up for his second attempt at getting to the door. 

Suddenly, an electrical him echoed from outside, then an angry voice that seemed to melt like chocolate into the darkness, then nothing. The dark-eyed man tied to the small gray chair gasped under his breath, the sound high-pitched as it escaped from between his lips. It was silent outside, nothing but the buzz of fluorescent lights and the incessant creaking of the ceiling lamp permeating the dusty air. Schlatt felt a cold, anxious sweat break out all over his body, making his stomach turn and his heart pound. 

It felt like hours before he was ready to move again. The electrical song that had sounded from outside died down, replaced by his own slightly whimpering breaths. The room had gotten colder, almost noticeably, and Schlatt felt a chill run over his spine as he felt the air hit his bare skin through a rip in his suit. He didn’t want to chance it again, but he had to get moving, he had to make it to the door and find a way out of here. He had worked too hard to let it all fall to shit like this.

A deep breath, a kick, the scraping of wood on concrete. Another foot or so forward. I’m making good progress, he decided, a small smile worming it’s way onto his lips, I’ve got this in the bag. 

The cold metal of the door was approaching faster and faster with every shuffle, the rope burning Schlatt’s wrists as he inched closer. He was grinning wildly now, the latch in plain sight, a sharp edge in the metal just beckoning him to use on his bindings. 

And then, footsteps. Quiet at first, soft and punctual, then heavier and sharper the closer they got. The sound of boots on metal, angry and pointed, got louder, sending pangs of panic into Schlatt’s heart. Scrambling frantically backwards, feet scrabbling on the floor, he yelped as the chair tipped, slamming onto the ground with a painful thud. Stars exploded into his vision, and he let out a low groan as the latch on the door unlocked. 

Muffled, as if through a covering of wool, Schlatt could hear a voice, amused and dripping with mirth. 

“Ah, looks like our guest took a little fall. Swagger, can you help him up, please?” 

The chair was yanked upright almost too quickly, and Schlatt felt his vision clear up a little, the spots that were swimming in his eyes just earlier disappearing slightly. The wooden legs gave out a whine of protest as they slammed back onto the ground, and as he stared at the men in front of him, his mouth gaped open in shock.

“Wh-Wha..?” Came the bewildered stammering as he realized whose icy eyes he was gazing into. The other man laughed once, a harsh bark, and folded his arms gaudily against his chest. 

“Hi, Schlatt.” He dragged his words out carefully, lacing his fingers together in an instinctively professional gesture. “Nice to see me me again, huh?”

Fitz stood taller than Schlatt remembered. He was sure that the man was grinning widely under the multicolored mask that was fastened tightly over his face, light brown hair falling in waves over his temples. In the middle of the carefully painted material of the mask was a large, blindingly white ‘F’, entombed in a circle of the same color. He was lithe, lean without being too skinny, and wore a dark blue leather jacket, cleaned of dust and nearly immaculate.

He snapped his fingers calculatedly, and the huge man behind him stepped forward, lumbering closer with intimidating shuffles. He was towering, arms larger than a tree trunk, face stony and obscured by a dented metal knight helmet. With a grunt, Swagger straightened his letterman jacket, popped his knuckles, and rounded the corner to take up a position behind the chair. 

“F-Fitz?” Schlatt stuttered, whipping his head around wildly to try to see the giant of a man that stood stock-still behind his shoulders. “What are you doing?!” 

The masked man chuckled gently, beginning a single boot-clad foot up to rest on the corner of the gray chair. It rested there for a second, commanding as Fitz clicked his tongue, kicking the wood backwards with a shake of his head. The headboard was met with a resounding thump as Schlatt cried out, then shuddered as he felt Swagger’s hands grip the sturdy material. 

“I think you know what I’m doing.” Fitz spat, brushing hair roughly out of his face, adjusting his mask with a single slender finger. “You’ve gotten in my way for too long, Mr. Schlatt. You tried to ruin my business... tried to sabotage me...” 

“N-Now I’m sure we could work out an agreement...” Came the high-pitched response, wheedling as it landed on deaf ears. “That was just—- just a momentary setback! I let the money get to my head, I really didn’t mean anything by it and—“ 

Fitz cocked his head in mock disapproval, folding limber arms across his chest as he motioned to Swagger. Almost instantly, Schlatt felt a brawny hand wrap around his loose ponytail, pulling his neck back sharply. 

“Agh! Jesus..!” He shouted, squirming as the helmet-clad man yanked back harder. His eyes were glued to the ceiling now, and he sucked in a strained breath as the chair tipped back slightly, the pressure agonizing as it built in his throat. His voice came out clogged, broken, and he barely managed to swallow before speaking. “Come on, boys, we’re really gonna resort to violence, ah? That’s not very professional of you..!”

“Mm,” Fitz murmured lightly, just out of view, and Swagger kept his fingers knitted through Schlatt’s wiry hair. From the masked man’s general direction, he heard a metallic pop, poignant and sharp as it echoed throughout the small room, bouncing off of the walls and lodging itself into his brain. A wave of fear crashed over his body, and he instinctively started to squirm, writhing with panic under Swagger’s hold. The pop came again, then the sickening slosh of some kind of liquid. “Well, you shouldn’t talk to ME about professionalism, Schlatt. After all, your little spiel here could only work if you didn’t totally fuck me over.” 

A violent citric smell wafted into the air, stinging Schlatt’s nostrils and forcing him to squint his now-teary eyes, and as he stared up in helpless terror at the ceiling, he could feel a cold metal rod nip at his forearm. All of a sudden, the rough hold on his dark, frizzy hair was released, sending the chair slamming back onto the ground, joints crying out in protest as they connected with the concrete. 

To his horror, a folding metal table was sitting poised in front of the chair, a black plastic tray laying haphazardly on top of it, a latex glove discarded off to the side. Fitz had the other one secured firmly onto his right hand, and he grinned down at Schlatt with obscured, triumphant eyes. 

Between two smooth fingers laid a syringe, filled to the cap with an acidic orange liquid that was warm to the touch. He flicked at the end of the needle in annoyance, ignoring his prisoner’s weak protests, which grew louder and louder the longer Fitz stared at the vial. 

Desperation had settled in now, the taste of it bitter and cold, and Schlatt felt the roof of his mouth go dry as the masked man let out a bark of winning laughter. “Please, man,” he pleaded, voice shaking in his throat, eyes wide as they followed the syringe. “You don’t gotta do this, I’m sure we can reach an agreement..!”

“The time for negotiation is over! Don’t you get it?!” Fitz snarled angrily, voice slightly muffled from behind the mask. Balling his fingers into a fist, he lunged forward, grabbing Schlatt by his collar and roughly yanking him closer. “What, you really thought we were gonna work together after the shit you pulled?! The headquarters, the merger, the... the club!” 

“Cooper and Travis..?” Schlatt uttered softly, voice a confused, sharp whisper. “They— they needed to be dealt with! They were competitors, and I made a business call for us that—-“

“There is no us!” Fitz shouted, shaking the man in the chair violently, dragging out his words as if they were embedded in a thick, searing mud. Behind him, Swagger nodded slowly, folding his gargantuan forearms over his burly chest. “There is no merger! There’s Schlatt and Co, and the Misfits Corporation, and you don’t get to make business decisions for both!” 

“Would it make you feel better if I said that I was sorry, Fitz?” Schlatt snapped back angrily, shoving crudely out of the other man’s grip. “Cuz I’m not gonna mean it, but if you want me to say it I will!” 

The room grew uneasily quiet. Schlatt’s heart was hammering in his chest, cold, nervous sweat coating his tan skin, wrists sore and aching from their position behind his back. He drew in a ragged breath, then looked up slowly to meet Fitz’ gaze, surprised when he saw the man’s bemused eyes sparkling lightly. There was a pause before the imprisoned man spoke.

“So, ah… did the sorry thing work, or?”

“Mr. Swagger, if you could do the honors of holding him down.” 

Schlatt’s eyes widened as he heard the brunette click his fingers, the lumbering of the giant behind him, a metallic pop that bounced off of the concrete. “Wait! Wait wait wait, no, don’t do this!”

“Very naive of you to assume that just chewing you out was my plan,” Fitz called haughtily, snapping the other glove onto his hand, biting his lip calculatedly as he studied the goatman’s exposed arm. “Hmm, now where do you think I could find a vein the easiest?” 

“No no no, wait, you’re making a mistake!” Schlatt cried, voice strained and laced with terror as he felt Swagger’s arms wrap around his chest and neck. “There are people who’re gonna know I’m gone! Connor’ll call the cops…!!”

Fitz chuckled gently, bringing the tip of the needle to rest on bare skin, tapping two confident fingers on the inside of Schlatt’s forearm. The dark-skinned man was thrashing wildly now, yelling out for help from underneath Swagger’s steeled hand. “Ah. That’s right. You still don’t know what happened to Connor, do you…?” 

The movement stopped. Schlatt went limp with shock, the words not fully hitting him, instead trying in vain to weave their way through a shock of thick wool. The triumphant tone, the finite nature of the sentence made a deep, angry fear roll over in his stomach, and try as he might, he couldn’t get a word of response out. Swagger was stifling him, and he felt his chest hitch as he struggled to draw in another breath of air. 

“It doesn’t really matter though, does it?” Fitz asked, steel needlepoint still poised gracefully in the air. “You don’t need to think about him too much right now, you’re in your own predicament. ...Do you know what’s in this syringe?” 

The room was forebodingly silent, and Schlatt shook his head weakly. 

“Sodium diopenthal. Purchased it from a scientist in Prague especially for an occasion like this. They call it truth serum.” He adjusted his mask with one hand, grinned as he found a light blue vein with the other. “Doesn’t exactly kill you, but it does what the name implies and then some. See… your company was getting huge, too big for your own good, I’d think.” 

The needle suddenly plunged into Schlatt’s skin, and he let out a muffled cry, tears starting to build up in his already reddened eyes. The liquid felt like unbearably hot fire as it was slowly poured into his bloodstream, and he didn’t feel strong enough to resist anymore. He let himself go limp, groaning in agony as the serum spread itself up and down the length of his arm. 

“As you could’ve guessed by now, it was all a ruse.” Came Fitz’ voice, sounding strange and lower than usual through the influence of the syringe. “The merger, the profit climb, everything. But you were going to overtake me soon, and you knew it, didn’t you? That’s why you started stealing my products, moving up in the ranks. You had to prove something so desperately, so you were willing to do whatever it took to sate your own huge ego. I mean, Schlatt and Co? Seriously? You shot down other suggestions just to have your name as the face of the company?”

Schlatt’s eyes were beginning to grow blurry, pupils huge and swimming, and he didn’t know if it was the drugs or the tears. Colors were beginning to fade into view, a pink, then a red and blue, flashing in rapid succession. 

“Think of all the people you hurt to get here! I mean, nothing compares to Travis and Cooper, but you covered that up well enough, didn’t you? And I thought that maybe… it was time for you to get a taste of your own medicine. It’s simple, really. You stay down here, sign all the documents and papers that I push at you, and you take a leave of absence. See, I was going to have you sign the company over to me, but I realized that I’d make far more profits keeping the two separate, no matter how much I want to rid the world of your name. So, I get the whole life story. Everything about the company, from the first time you dreamed it up in your mommy’s basement, to the point you’re at now. And you’ll see just how good of an actor I am when I start answering business deals as you.” 

Schlatt couldn’t see clearly anymore. The walls were just a blend of color, matching the watercolor style of Fitz’ mask, pressing in on him from all sides. His throat felt dry and cracked, and couldn’t anyone get him water, for the love of God..? His head lolled back, but he was vaguely aware of fingers gently pushing it forward. 

Fitz cracked his knuckles, then crouched slowly in front of his captive. “Time to test this out. Ahem… what’s your name, sir?” 

“Jonathan Schlatt.” Came the response, quick and capable, and the man in the chair didn’t even have time to be shocked before the next question was fired back. 

“How old are you?”

“Twenty five.”

“What’s the name of your closest business associate?” 

“C...Connor.” The answer was strained, voice rigid as he spoke through gritted teeth, hopeless to fight the power of the bright orange drug burning its way slowly through his body.

Fitz’ obscured eyes lit up giddily, and he clapped his hands together twice, nudging Swagger’s shoulder happily as the giant came to stand next to him. “Get the video camera, we’re good to go.” 

A moment passed, silent and painful as Schlatt’s head pounded, muscles tensing in agony as the liquid continued to sear his skin. He couldn’t stand it anymore, a low groan snaking it’s way past his lips as he strained against the ropes. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Fitz and Swagger entered the room again, lugging two metal folding chairs and a DSLR camera. 

A flicked switch, a flickering red light, and everything was ready. It was as if a spotlight had been trained on Schlatt, growing brighter and hotter by the second. His head was nodding softly, suit drenched with sweat and hair matted, the rope burns illuminated by the light. It zoomed in slowly, methodically, until he was the only person in the room, the only person on the planet. 

A muffled voice sounded from the background. “Give us your name and info, and tell us everything.” 

A pause. 

“My name is Jonathan Schlatt. I’m 5’9 and turned 25 in August, and I weigh 168 pounds. I… I own a company named Schlatt and Co, and I started it about a year ago with my best friend, Connor…”


	2. The Proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> schlatt and connor, connor and schlatt!

Schlatt was broke in every sense and meaning of the word. He could barely afford rent in the tiny apartment that he occupied, a bustling Manhattan flat with a faulty air conditioning unit and a depressing view of a sprawling concrete jungle. His meals consisted of ramen and boxed salad, mostly lettuce and shaved carrots, yet he insisted on eating the vegetables anyways because it ”helped him keep his irresistible physique”. He woke up every morning, took a cold shower (hot water costs more), brushed his teeth, put on his best dazzling smile and went out job-hunting.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t get a steady job, and if you insinuated that, he’d argue heatedly with you until he got bored or won. He’d had a number of well-paying gigs, won through pure charisma and hardly talent, but… he had a hard time keeping them once he was hired. He didn’t even want to talk about the mayonnaise incident, or the brush fire, or the intangible evidence that he had bad luck following him everywhere he went. 

Today was no different. The wind felt nice through his long hair, drawn up as tightly as he could manage into a bun, soft curls and strands inevitably straining their way loose and falling in waves around his face. He hadn’t bothered to shave today… not for a food truck shop interview. The best set of clothes he had to his name was a pair of black rumpled slacks and a breezy button-up, nearly off-white from years of use. His briefcase sat snugly in his hand, his father’s hand-me-down black leather Vaunderman, following him through high school and college like an old, annoying friend. 

The city was bustling, cars rushing past with impatient swiftness, all clamoring to be first in line. Hot dog stands and bored sign-dancers lined the sidewalk, shouting and holding their wares like prized possessions. The buildings around him, multistoried apartments that had colorful laundry hanging on their balconies, rose up from the ground like trees in a dense, bold jungle. A loud, grating honk sounded from the street, angry and insistent, and an old man in a beat-up Fiat sped off into the distance. 

Schlatt took a deep breath in, smelling garbage and weed and the sizzling fat of the hot dogs, allowing a light smile to work it’s way onto his face. He loved the smell of the city, the scent of populace and culture and most of all, business. The light, frothy hotel scent that was always present during sterile interviews always made him feel uneasy, like he was too poor, too dirty to be there. 

Turning right along a busy crosswalk, he checked the time haphazardly, stepping out into the street without looking twice. Cars gave their metallic sounds of indignation as they ground to a halt, and Schlatt responded with giving the irritated drivers a winning smile. There was nothing you couldn’t accomplish with the power of charisma, he decided happily, and cursed as he nearly tripped over the curb. 

The parking lot that he had stopped in front of was small, ghetto, the cracked asphalt uneven and run over with yellowing weeds. There was a total of 4 cars in the lot, and Schlatt straightened his shirt confidently as he made his way over to the one closest. 

The yellow truck was stopped almost defeatedly underneath a gnarly willow tree, and as Schlatt tapped the back twice with a sure palm, the man in the front seat jumped in surprise. 

“God, Schlatt!” Connor exclaimed, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, annoyed as he waited for his partner to climb into the front seat. His light brown hair fell gently over his eyes, and he brushed the slightly curled strands away, irritation clogging his every movement. “A call before would be nice. I was havin’ a nap up here.” 

“Really, Connor?” Schlatt clicked his tongue disapprovingly, reaching backwards to grab ahold of the seatbelt, then promptly forgetting as soon as his phone lit up. “It’s already 9 in the morning, man! If you’re sleepy now, you’re in no condition to work!” 

Connor shook his head frustratedly, turning the keys a little too roughly in the ignition. The truck coughed twice, then erupted into life, 80s ballads blaring from the radio. “Work? Listen, I can more than support myself. I’m only doing this because you told me you needed someone to bomb the interview on the same day, in order to make you look better.” 

“Well, they might turn you away at the door, ah?” Schlatt chuckled, gesturing incredulously at the other man’s faded purple overalls and loose yellow turtleneck. The truck peeled out of the lot and turned into the street, thundering out into the fast lane, turning the buildings and vendors nearby into a slow blur. “You know me, I always dress to impress.” 

“Sure,” Connor chuckled, rolling his light eyes. His hands flexed gently around the wheel, and he exploded into a fit of cursing upon being cut off. Taking a deep, calming breath, he turned to Schlatt and gave the man a good-natured, bittersweet smile. “You know you don’t have to do this all the time, right?”

“Mm? Do what?” 

Connor let his thoughts roll around in his brain for a second, then drummed his fingers on the radio knob before turning it down slightly. “I mean… you don’t have to try to take all these odd jobs all the time. My dad and I can more than support you if it ever came down to it.” 

Schlatt let out an indignant scoff, laughing too-loudly at his partner’s earnest suggestion. “Come on, Connor. Every cent that I make is earned! I work for my money!” 

The brunette sighed raggedly, irritation creeping back into the man’s movements. He jerked the wheel, yelling angrily at the agonizingly slow driver in front of him, before gazing at Schlatt with stern eyes. “Your house doesn’t have air conditioning. You take cold showers. You come over to my place just to steal wafer crisps from me—-“

“—-That was only once,” Schlatt interjected, but Connor held up a single slender finger, exasperation apparent in his overly violent driving. 

“The point is, man, you need to stop being afraid of asking for help. I said it before and I’ll say it again so maybe you could get it past that thick skull of yours: I can slide you a couple hundred every now and then, just to get through the month. I know it can get hard sometimes.” 

“Ah, Connor.” Schlatt grinned widely, holding his arms up in a gesture of surrender, loosely cuffed shirt falling almost to his elbows. The traffic moved slowly around them, honking and the rough screeching of tires permeating the smoggy air. The sun was high in the sky, waving gently down at the pair, obscured slightly by a smoky cloud. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me, if you can. Like I said, I’m fine. Really.”

“Whatever.” Came the terse reply, accompanied by a viciously sharp jerk of the wheel. “Fix your fucking hair, then. You look like a mess.” 

—-

When they arrived, a burly man with a sour expression greeted them outside of the truck, stained apron hanging loosely over his blocky shoulders. The truck was green, a giant plaster taco decorating the top, and Schlatt put on his best winning smile as he went to shake the man’s hand. He introduced himself as “Curly”, and didn’t allow the pair to call him anything else, shooting them suspicious looks as they sat down outside. 

The breeze ruffled Schlatt’s always-messy hair as he bullshitted his way through question after question, each answer accompanied by an exaggerated laugh or low-hanging joke. Connor crossed his legs uncomfortably the whole time, only giving short, snappy responses when interrogated, bored eyes drifting past the alley and into the street beyond it. 

“Why do you wanna hold this job?” Curly has drawled, voice gruff and monotone, and he rolled his eyes as Schlatt launched into another spiel, an obviously fake story about how he had to cook for his 10 brothers and sisters back home in Venezuela. Connor coughed, examined his nails half-heartedly, tied and untied his shoes. 

An hour or so later, the sun was smoldering aimlessly in the sky, growing warmer and warmer and almost laughing at the two men sitting in plastic chairs on the curb side. A homeless man walked by, stopped and stared at the pair, chuckled, and continued pushing his slightly rusted cart. Schlatt was still talking, grinning, animated in his movements, and Curly still had his arms folded over his chest in annoyance. 

“Thanks for yer time, Mister. I’ll, uh… give you a call later about the job.” Came the exasperated response later, the short, gruff man stepping back into his van and starting it up almost immediately. 

“Yeah, no problem!” Schlatt called happily, waving in the general direction of the taco-laden machine, looking past Connor’s haughty expression. “Pleasure doin’ business with you, Curly!”

There was no answer as the green behemoth sped away, kicking up cool dust and leaving a blast of exhaust behind it. The side street was a one way, and as the dark-haired man packed up his briefcase cheerfully, whistling to himself, Connor shook his head and walked back to the car. 

—-

“I think it went well!” 

“Sure, Schlatt.” 

“I’m serious, man.” 

“I believe you.” 

“I mean… I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if I got a call back right now! Y’know Connor, I seem to have a tendency of doin’ great in interviews. You know me, it’s a skill I’ve got.” 

“Can’t argue with that,” the brunette answered absently, leaning back on the park bench he was sitting on, the wood digging roughly into his back. It was starting to get warmer, and the tree that sat like a loving friend above them only blocked so much of the sun’s rays. The park was peaceful, quiet, and Connor laid his head gently on the slatted wood, watching as colors melted into each other under closed eyes. 

There was blissful silence for a moment before Schlatt spoke up again, voice flat and interrogative. “Hey, are you even listening to me?” 

“Mm. Yeah.” 

The air was quiet once again, and when the pause lasted for a bit too long, Connor cracked open an eye. Schlatt was sitting cross-legged on the bench, hands curled around the dark wooden planks underneath him, gaze fixated on the ground, face flat and frustrated. He had taken his hair tie out, instead stretching it anxiously between two fingers, long dark waves falling haphazardly over his shoulder. The brunette next to him sat up suddenly, a bit surprised at how serious Schlatt looked, like he was seriously contemplating a fluctuating idea. 

“Hey,” Connor murmured, nudging him gently. “I’m sorry, I promise I’m listening to you now. What did you wanna say?” 

Suddenly, Schlatt jumped up excitedly from his seat, making the brunette startle and nearly jump from the bench, whirling around and letting out a sharp burst of laughter. 

“Ha! You were right!” 

“Jesus, man! Don’t scare me like that!” Connor cried, readjusting his hat irritatedly, flustered as he settled begrudgingly back into his seat. “What are you talking about?” 

“You were right! Remember in the car, when you said that I didn’t have to take odd jobs like this all the time, that I shouldn’t keep embarrassing myself at these interviews?” Came the loud, fast moving flow of words, laced with excitement and promise as Schlatt paced busily. He whipped around and pointed at Connor incriminatingly, causing his partner to shift uncomfortably, clearly still not following the same train of thought. 

“Y-Yeah, that was today.” Connor responded slowly, unsurely. Nearby, a middle-aged mother pushing her son in a stroller looked over at them, eyes shooting daggers, and he gave her an apologetic glance. 

Schlatt grinned widely, yanking his partner up by the sleeve and throwing a lively arm around his neck. “Well, I agree! I’ve been wasting my life away, Connor! Don’t you think?!” 

“Don’t… don’t ask me.” Came the flustered response, indignant as ever, cheeks dusted pink with embarrassment as people around the park turned slightly to stare. Face flat, he untangled himself from Schlatt’s grip and whirled around to shake the man firmly by the shoulders. “Dude. What the hell are you getting at?!” 

“What I’m sayin’ is…” there was a slight pause, a welcome silence, before Schlatt’s eyes lit up. Holding his hands out apologetically, he used them to gesture at the sky, which was beginning to fade into a calm pastel blue. “I’ve been lendin’ out my fantastic services to these other companies for too long! These businesses rarely recognize the talent in front of ’em!”

“Mhmm.” 

“So, what if there was a business that I could work at where I made my own hours, produce my own money, and get appreciation for what I do! And you know me, I do quite a bit!” 

Connor scoffed lightly, lacing his fingers together, movements dripping with skepticism. “Yeah man, I’m not sure a place like that exists. I mean, can you count the amount of times you set fire to a restaurant kitchen..?” 

“Forget about that,” Came the terse reply, and Schlatt lowered his voice significantly as if he was about to tell an elementary school secret.

“What if… I made my own business?” 

Connor was speechless. He couldn’t even count all of the reasons why that was a horrible, likely dangerous idea, and he was left a stuttering, shocked mess. Seeing the surprise on his partner’s face, Schlatt took the opportunity and kept talking, swiftly jumping up on the bench, black dress shoes thudding as they made contact with the slatted wood. 

“I mean, think about it, ah? Schlatt and Co. Doesn’t that sound great?” 

“I...I… don’t…”

“You’re amazed, I can tell. Tell you the truth, I’m a little upset I didn’t come up with the idea earlier.” He admitted, inspecting his nails matter-of-factly. The sun was beginning to set behind the towering skyscrapers in the distance, and the park was clearing out, rays of warm orange light spilling like water onto the pair. Tying his hair back up in a messy, loose ponytail, he jumped down from the bench, stepping forward to punch Connor playfully on the shoulder. 

“I mean, I know my proposition’s great, but don’t you got a little feedback for me?” He asked happily, folding his arms across his chest, rolling up his sleeves quickly under the warmth of the sun. 

“I really don’t know what to say,” Connor admitted incredulously, bringing a stiff hand up to run through his hair. “I… don’t think it’s a good idea, Schlatt.” 

“Oh, come on!” His partner exclaimed, voice laced with subtle annoyance. “You’re such a… such a negative thinker, man! You gotta have faith in me! Listen, how long’ve we known each other?” 

The brunette squinted for a second, then shook his head exasperatedly. “Years, Schlatt. Why?” 

“Haven’t all those years been enough for you to get to know my character?” 

Connor threw his hands up in the air, letting out a rough sigh, and slumped exhaustedly back against a nearby tree. “Fine, dude. I support you and your business. But riddle me this, Schlatt, what will your company do? What are you selling, what’s your product? What’s your special skill that will draw people to your brand? What’s your marketing strategy? Do you even know how to create a start-up? You need assets and investors and a headquarters, for God’s sake! How are you gonna do that shit?” 

For the first time in a while, Schlatt was rendered speechless. He was a very spontaneous person, didn’t ever look before he leapt, and hearing big, important words like marketing and investors made his mouth run dry. Clearing his throat, he rubbed his hands together anxiously, before an idea exploded into his brain. Gasping, he turned an incriminating finger on Connor for the second time that evening, bristling with charismatic confidence. 

“You!” 

“Me?” 

“You’re good at the whole businessy thing, right? I mean, your dad’s been rearin’ you up on it ever since you could say ‘tax bracket’!” 

Connor trained a haughty look onto Schlatt, holding his hands up in a gesture of innocence as he took an instinctive step backwards. “That was in regards to my family’s company, man! I don’t know if I have the right qualifications to run something like this… especially with you!” 

“Hey, what in the hell is that supposed to mean, huh?!” Schlatt cried out in surprise, taking two steps forwards for Connor’s one step back. “What, you think I can’t do this, bitch?!” 

Suddenly, a voice sounded angrily from behind them, ringing out through the evening air like a shrill bell. Whipping around swiftly, the pair’s gaze was met by a sour-faced Girl Scouts leader, her pale blonde hair falling in angry waves over her face. 

“Hey, can you two watch your language, please?! My girls are on a nightly cleanup.” She called, hands on her hips, and Schlatt and Connor glanced first at the Scout leader and then at each other, faces red with embarrassment. 

“Sorry.” They mumbled, shoving their hands into deep pockets and drawing away slowly. The girls in the troop nearby pointed at the pair, laughing and giggling in high pitched exclamations, and Connor tugged Schlatt’s sleeve as they made a speedy exit. 

It was nearly night now, the moon rising softly above the clouds, a few last failing rays of sunlight dotting the horizon as the darkness started to take over. The place was devoid of people, just the two of them, two figures trying hard not to make eye contact as they slipped through the trees. The walkways of the park were lit up with warm orange lights, bathing the concrete with a peaceful glow, and as the pair trudged slowly back to the truck, they let out a unanimous sigh. 

“I’m sorry for being an ass.” Connor stated begrudgingly, taking a hand out of his pocket to pat Schlatt’s back. 

“And I’m sorry for yelling.” Came the response, which garnered a sarcastic laugh from his companion. 

“No you’re not.” 

“No, I’m not,” Schlatt ceded sheepishly, eyes lighting up softly as they landed on the yellow truck nearby. “I’ll tell you what, though, I’m still not gonna answer if that guy from this mornin’ calls me back.” 

The streetlamps illuminated the car that sat still underneath it, and as the pair climbed in, Connor couldn’t find the words to reply to the dark-haired man sitting contently next to him. As the doors closed, a little too hard, he let their conversation from earlier replay in his head, how excited Schlatt had been to make something of himself, of the company. Even now, a bit of residual happiness still hung in the air, and Connor couldn’t help but to sigh and grip the wheel with both hands. 

“Shiiiiiit. Fine.” 

“Hmm?” 

“I’ll help you out with your stupid business.” The brunette grumbled, starting the car without even bothering to buckle his seatbelt. He heard a high-pitched, giddy gasp sound from next to him, and almost instantly, he regretted his ill-fated decision. I need to grow a thicker skin, he thought irritatedly, blocking Schlatt’s excited exclamations out, too tired to handle the man’s loud happiness. 

“I knew you’d come around, man! My business associate, Connor! Ya love to see it!” 

“On one condition!” He interjected, raising a finger matter-of-factly as he peeled away from the sidewalk. “I help you start out, and if you run the company into the ground, it’s not my fault and you absolutely can’t blame me. Got it?” 

“Ah, you know me! Always a man of my word!” Schlatt professed proudly, holding out a steady hand, joy radiating through his every movement. After a moment of steely contemplation, Connor shook his hand regretfully, squeezing a little too hard, leaving Schlatt’s fingers a bit sore. “You won’t regret it!” 

And even after the brunette dropped him off at his apartment with a wave and a small smile, proclaiming, “I’ll see you at 7 tomorrow. Don’t you dare be late,”, the dark haired man stood underneath the waning light of a streetlamp and clutched his briefcase lovingly to his chest. 

For once, he was going to make a difference.


	3. The Investor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> introducing: new characters? two of them??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, i know the schlatt said something about fanfiction on stream. i know, i heard. it’s just that... this is a very important piece of work to me, and i have so many great ideas, and, let’s be real, when is he ever going to see this? it’s not a shipping fic or a smut fic or anything gross like that, it’s just me creating content for people i enjoy and look up to. i don’t mean any harm by it at ALL and i adore everyone that i put into this series. anyways, that’s it for now. hope you guys enjoy :))

It was a day just like any other. The bus stop sign, complete with faded blue paint that peeled off the metal like a flower, stood rigid as it baked in the morning sun. The benches nearby, the same shade of blue and equally run down, were littered throughout the area, men on their way to work and children waiting for a ride to school sitting purposefully at them. The air was smoggy and thick with dust, wrappers and empty beer cans clattering along as they rolled down the road. 

The bus, a dented white city transit monster, turned the corner and thundered down the street. 

Ty shoved his hands in his pocket, pulling his hood down farther over his shock of wild brown hair. His eyes darted around the bus stop area, scanning the crowd, eyeing purses and shopping bags and backpacks. The smell of angry exhaust settled into the breeze as the bus got closer and closer, and the small kid felt nudges at his shoulders as people hurriedly pushed past him. A woman and her baby cooed back and forth, a bored high-schooler skipped through half the songs in their playlist, and two men stood at the street corner, arguing animatedly.

Bingo. He had found his target.

Making his way closer to the two businessmen, Ty apologized lightly, irritatedly, as the crowd shoved and jostled him. He could see more clearly now the one closest to him, a taller man with lazy brown hair and a quick-pressed gray tux, blue tie peeking out from behind the suede. Next to the brunette was an angrier, shorter ball of fire with long black hair, pointed waves falling over his forehead, a clearly too-large suit tying together the hasty look. Ty wasn’t paying attention to any of that, how the men looked didn’t matter to him.

What was inside their gorgeous leather briefcases enticed him far more. 

“...Can’t believe you told him MY name, Connor!” Came an indignant response, the first piece of their conversation that Ty was able to pick up. The bus had screeched to a halt, a line of people scanning their cards and stumbling onto the metal steps, and the kid quickly fell in line beside the two businessman, the taller of the two he already knew as Connor. 

“Hey, I told you I’d get you investors, man, not that I’d do all the work for you!” The gray-suited man hissed forcefully, giving the bus driver a terse smile as he flicked his card in front of the scanner. Frustrated, the pair took their place at the back of the bus, nearly yelling to each other over the chatter and commotion of everyone getting situated. Ty kept his head down, sidestepping baby carriages and overstuffed backpacks, slipping past a throng of three overly loud middle schoolers. 

“You have to sell the deal to them! Schlatt and Co, remember? YOUR company? Besides, I thought you were good at this kind of thing! Your, ah… natural charisma and all that?” 

Huh, Ty thought complacently, slipping into the last seat on the overcrowded bus, grinning as he noticed the briefcases that were left out in plain sight. So that’s what the other guy’s name is. Nothing personal against you two, Schlatt and Connor, Came the next glimmer of thought, but it has to be done. 

Schlatt slumped back against his chair, letting out a rattled sigh, and gripped the back of his chair with nervous, white-knuckled hands. “I… What did you say his name was again?” 

Connor glanced back at his partner with a warm, soothing stare. “Look at the pamphlet, man. I don’t understand why you’re so nervous about this, you never worried for all those interviews you used to do. I mean, just last week you were getting on my ass about not wanting to participate in your food truck stand hiring scheme!” 

“This is different, Connor!” Schlatt groaned, brushing his clammy palms lightly over his rumpled dress pants. Behind them, Ty leaned forwards slightly, a bit interested in their conversation, a bit interested in the contents of their pockets. “He’s… I mean, this guy’s a star! He’s huge! His face is on billboards everywhere in the UK and he’s comin’ down to meet ME? Jesus!”

Connor chewed the end of his pen lightly, jotting down vague notes, the loopy scrawling script of his handwriting making smooth indents in the notepad. “Don’t stress, man. My dad told me that he was pretty nice in person.” 

“Don’t stress,” Schlatt scoffed, rolling his eyes and slumping back in his seat anxiously. “Sure, try tellin’ me not to stress when you have to hard sell a company that doesn’t even have a solid business plan yet!” 

The bus sputtered forward gently, then stopped, letting off a few people, swallowing up a few more. The sun was starting to rise higher in the sky, and Ty checked the crumpled map he had in his pocket quickly, noting the bold marker strokes that ran along the transit line. A red ink X was marked about two stops up, commanding yet worn, and Ty felt a slight adrenaline begin trickling into his bloodstream, making him feel warm and numb. The pair in front of him had left their briefcases on the ground, the leather almost calling him name coyly, and he cracked his knuckles in heavy anticipation. 

“Have you practiced what you’re going to say?” The brunette asked proddingly, earning him a fiery glare from the man next to him. 

“Hey, you know me! I’m not the kind of person to plan things out, I live in the moment! Hey, and… how does you dad know all these famous people anyways? I know the company’s big, but I have a hard time believing a fuckin’ pop idol wants to sit down at investors meetings.” Schlatt asked haphazardly, drumming his fingertips blankly on Connor’s notepad. 

“You’d be surprised how many of these big-name idols are interested in the business side of things,” Connor responded with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Besides, it doesn’t matter why he wants to invest, it only matters that he DOES. We need the money if we wanna be serious about this thing, got it?” 

The bus stopped again, this time crawling up to the side of the street near a busy intersection. Apartments and shops rose up into the air around them, cars racing jauntily past, horns and yelling echoing around them. Ty’s heart leapt out of his chest as he realized that the time was now, and he leaned forward ever so slightly, half-listening to the two men talk. His slender fingers shook as he stretched them out towards the handle of the bag, a light sheen of sweat falling over his face. 

“Where’s this meeting again?” 

“San Carlton Hotel. Real nice place, I’ve been there a couple times. They have this huge pool room near the back, I won quite a bit of money during like… a tournament or something.” 

Ty’s hand curled around the baked black leather, and a grin flashed over his face as he snatched it backwards, quick as lightning. It plopped onto his lap roughly, and excited, he opened the case with a quiet pop, careful not to disturb the men sitting in front of him. 

“You’re a pool kinda guy, Connor? Well shit, I never woulda thought.” 

A sheepish laugh sounded from beyond the gray seats. “My mom was a pool fan, she was the one that taught me how to play. Don’t know if I’d consider it a sport, but…” 

The shadowed contents of the briefcase spilled out lightly, and Ty rummaged through them with steady hands, now fully blocking out the sounds of conversation and engine whines. A Manila folder was the first thing that caught his attention, full to the brim with legal paperwork, yellow see-through pages and white printed fliers. It was research and documents and everything the pair seemed to need in order to impress their mysterious pop star investor. Next to it was an expensive looking watch that Ty snatched up greedily, then a baggie full of blue pills. Paper clips and post it notes were sprinkled through every belonging, sticking to a stray granola bar and chapstick. A lone spool of paracord stuck out from the bottom quizzically.

The glare of the sun against a phone screen made Ty beam brightly, snatching the rigid machine up in his palm, pressing it gently to his face before slipping it in his pocket. The rest of the case was stuffed to the brim with notes, stray Vegas-type flyers, forgotten at the bottom of the bag. There was a half empty pack of fruity gum and a few handwritten post its, all a combination of motivational quotes, stuff like “You’ve got this!” and “Be yourself!” 

The bus shuddered and jerked forward slightly, and Ty gasped lightly as he locked his gaze onto the bus stop in the distance. Scrambling to shove everything back into the briefcase, he snapped it shut with a too-loud click and kicked it back to its original spot next to the two men’s seat. They were STILL talking, the brunette kid noted with narrowed eyes, which was good for him. 

“This is ours,” Connor noted, pointing to the blue sign in the distance, gathering his things with steady movements and getting to his feet. “4th and Continental.” 

“Oh god,” Schlatt breathed anxiously, bringing nervous hands up to his face, screwing his eyes shut. The bus screeched to a halt, and Connor shot his arm out, keeping a tight grip on the other man’s bicep. 

“Get up, Schlatt, it’s not gonna be that bad,” he explained flatly, rolling a sleeve down to look at his watch. The man’s hazel eyes widened considerably as he did a double take, nearly jumping from his cramped spot between the bus seat and headed. “Holy shit, it’s ten ‘til! We gotta go, man!” 

Clearly stalling, gaze darting between the people now streaming like water off of the bus and the murky window nearby, Schlatt stammered lightly. “W-Wow, really? I think my watch might be off by a couple minutes, can we compare times?” 

“I’m being serious, we gotta—-“ 

The brunette was cut off as his partner snatched the briefcase off of the ground, throwing it open swiftly, rummaging around in a fit of panic. 

Ty’s heart dropped. 

“Hey… where the hell is my stuff?” 

The bus driver’s voice rang out like a shrill bell through Ty’s ears. “Last call for 4th and Continental! I repeat, last call for 4th and Continental!” 

And just like that, the brunette kid stood up swiftly from his seat and bolted towards the bus door. Hands still in his pockets, he leapt over a comically large backpack, ducking and shoving his way through the crowd, harsh shouts erupting from behind him. His feet hit the metal floor in short bursts, legs churning and weaving gracefully as he neared the exit. 

“Hey!” Schlatt cried, thundering after him, followed closely by a surprised Connor, whose long legs kept getting tangled in the throng of people. “Gimme my shit back, bitch!” 

Grinning cheekily, Ty whipped his head around, held up the phone, and gave it a little taunting shake. His heart raced in his chest as he got closer and closer to the bus door, ignoring the shrill yelling of shocked mothers and the indignant cries of his pursuers. This was the feeling he loved, the thrill of being on the chase and the knowledge that he was totally going to get richer tonight.

Then, suddenly, he was falling through the air, hands clawing at either sides of the gray seats to try to right himself, a startled yelp ripping through his throat. He had collided with a stray purse, laying much too far out into the walkway, the red satin outside seeming to mock him triumphantly. With a metallic thud, he hit the grainy floor, pain exploding into his head and making him see swimming stars. Groaning, he rolled onto his back, clutching at his throbbing ankle and burying his face in the sleeve of his faded pink hoodie. Shit, he thought defeatedly, shit shit shit. 

“Gotcha now, thief!” Schlatt cried, and Ty could feel a strong hand grip the front of his jacket, yanking him up roughly through the air. The kid opened his eyes indignantly, trying in vain to shove the man off, but his head was pounding far too much for him to make any coherent sense of himself. 

“Let go of me..!” He insisted, voice coming out much higher than he anticipated, and he cleared his throat in embarrassment. The brunette, who he remembered as Connor, stood behind his assailant with a poised, amused look on his face, arms crossed over his chest. Other people on the bus were starting to crowd around now, glancing at the commotion and whispering to each other lightly. 

“No way, you… you lawbreaker!” Came the haughty response, and in a quick flash, Ty was being dragged backwards across the bus floor, shoes scraping over metal as he struggled to get away. His eyes locked onto Connor’s, the latter of whom shrugged bemusedly, shaking his head. They stopped for a moment at the doors, and Schlatt turned around to give the bus driver a calm smile. 

“I prepaid at the door under Jonathan Schlatt.” He remarked casually, cursing under his breath as Ty stomped on his dress shoes desperately. The driver, a middle aged man with graying hair, eyed the three of them suspiciously for a split second, then check the log and shrugged. 

“Sure thing, buddy. You’re good t’go.” 

“Thanks, man.” 

The doors closed behind them and the vehicle thundered away, letting out a blast of angry exhaust, and Ty’s eyes stung as he was yanked out into the bright daylight. Stumbling slightly, he swore and shielded his face, glaring at the man who had a firm hold on his hoodie. 

“Let me go, dude!” He shouted, bringing a fist back to swing at the man, but he was quickly tugged to the side, causing him to step and miss. 

Schlatt clicked his tongue disapprovingly, maintaining his grip on the boy. “How can I? You stole from me and broke the law!” 

“I’ll give you your stuff back, just let me go!” 

Connor leaned down a bit, glancing at his watch anxiously as he mumbled into his partner’s ear exasperatedly. “Uh, you should probably just let the kid go free, our meeting is in 7 minutes and we still gotta walk over there.” 

Schlatt gasped dramatically, earning some bored stares from the people passing by, who promptly turned their attention to anything other than the men holding a madly swinging child back. “Nonsense, Connor! Actually, I’m a little insulted you’d say that t’me.” 

“WHAT are you talking about, man!?” Came the explosive rebuttal as the brunette threw his hands up in the air, frustration oozing out of his voice. A slight breeze picked up, swirling through Ty’s hair, and for a second he forgot his predicament and watched the two men confusedly. 

“This kid stole from me! I’m turnin’ him in!” 

“We’re GOING to be late! This meeting is important, man! You know what I think? I think you’re just scared about meeting someone famous and you’re stalling so we’ll miss it!”

“Hey, I’m not stalling! I care about people breakin’ the law!” 

“Bullshit!” 

“Hey!” Ty stepped forward insistently, and Schlatt let his arm be moved along with the boy. The two men stared at him blankly, faces flushed from shouting, and gave each other a confused glance. “Can we maybe… stop arguing and let me go?” 

Without saying a word, Schlatt dropped his briefcase suddenly, crouching down to rummage through it with one hand, the other still firm around Ty’s collar. Yanked down slightly, the kid groaned, running a hand over his face. The businessman grabbed his wrist firmly, and in a split second, Ty felt a pressure around his sleeve.

“Wh—What is this?!” He cried, glancing down at the neon orange paracord that was tied tightly around his wrist. His gaze followed the cord until it reached Schlatt’s arm, knotted in the same place, linking both of them together definitively. 

“Now listen up, kid, me n’ my partner here have a meeting to go to, but I still have to turn you in as a law abiding citizen! So you can stay with us until then, I’m sure I’m stoppin’ you from robbing some other innocent guy!” He quipped, earning a furious stare from Connor. The brunette behind Schlatt looked like he was going to angrily say something, but instead just swallowed thickly, folding his arms across his lithe chest. 

“And I don’t wanna see any funny business either, ah? Just sit tight and wait for the sale to be over, got it?!” 

There was a pause, and Ty opened his mouth and closed it, trying in vain to scrape words together. What was going on? Finally, he let out a ragged sigh and turned away, hugging his arms closer to his body. 

“Fine, Mr. Schlatt.” 

He was going to run at the first chance he got. 

—-

The San Carlton Hotel rose up in front of them like a towering beacon, countless industrial windows seeming to glare down at them with intimidating eyes. Bubbling fountains sounded all around them, the rattle of leaves and cooing of pigeons echoing throughout the front courtyard. The entrance of the place was bustling with people, limousines and expensive looking sports cars pulling into the shaded front area as the valets drove them into a nearby VIP parking lot. Rich looking women with long coats and men with glittering watches walked by, their long strides exuding confidence and class. 

The building itself was a shade of matte black, smooth and suave and brimming with spilling light. The outside terraces were made from black marble, huge pillars that donned the outside carved meticulously from the same material. Everything was polished to a glittering max, the stone decorations almost looking like water as they sparkled in the morning sun.

Schlatt looked up at the building in anxious fear, eyes widening when he saw a helicopter touch down on the sprawling roof, and even the level-headed Connor looked a bit at a loss. Ty glanced over at them quickly, then back at the huge estate, gaze raking instinctively over all the luscious bags that sat gently in the hands of the rich. 

“Wow… looking a little nervous, huh.” The boy remarked, sucking in a breath of air as he was met by a flustered tug of the cord. 

“Hey, keep the bright thoughts to yourself,” Schlatt muttered, but he couldn’t stop his voice from wavering slightly as he returned his gaze back to the San Carlton. “I can’t believe we’re gonna have the meeting here. Hey, am I dressed alright?” 

Connor snapped his gaze to his partner when the prompt registered in his ears, and he gave a curt nod coupled with a waning smile. “Yeah, man. That’s the power of renting out a tailored suit.”

“The suit isn’t even YOURS?” Ty inquired incredulously, earning himself another sharp yank. 

“Don’t remember askin’ for input,” Schlatt grumbled, cheeks flushed as he took a step forward, dragging the kid with him. “Besides, I mean, look around you, ah? This is where I’m meant to be! Can you two imagine my name up there on a building? Schlatt and Co headquarters! You’d love to see it!” 

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, man.” Connor muttered, extending both arms and pushing his partner forward, shoes digging into the baked concrete floor. “We have to make this sale first.” 

The throng of heavily perfumed customers flowed around them like water, eyes looking down and being drawn to the paracord that tied the two together, thief to victim. Ty shielded his face in embarrassment as he was strung along, having to stumble around suavely uniformed workers carrying large suitcases. The huge open doors loomed menacingly above them, and the boy let his gaze travel upwards to the neatly scripted font on the hotel front. 

“Act natural, you two, I have the meeting details.” Connor ordered quietly, and a blast of cold air assaulted them as they took their first step into the lobby. 

Everything was covered with black and white marble, the tabletops slick and adorned with minimalistic ornaments, stone elephants and fake plants. An indoor fountain bubbled away in the center of the room, the water sparkling crisply as it cascaded from the worn spout. There were trolleys everywhere, shimmering gold plating covering signs and light switches, and a grand staircase rose up like a pharaoh leading to the upper floors. 

“Wow…” Schlatt breathed in awe, bringing a slightly trembling hand up to his lips. Ty shuffled closer to the man to stare, and they both took in amazed breaths of air with every new wonder they saw. “Can you imagine livin’ like this every day..?”

“Totally…” Ty murmured, a light grin flitting over his features.

Nearby, Connor was speaking in a hushed tone to the bellhop that stood behind the front desk, a short teenager with fiery red hair, and nodded once before beckoning the others over. “We’re good to go!”

Schlatt’s eyes suddenly got big, and before he could even anxiously protest, Connor grabbed the both of them by the sleeve, dragging them over to the nearest elevator. Ignoring his partner’s indignant cries and the squeak of dress shoes against polished marble, they marched past piles of suitcases and cheerful guests. The elevator stood in front of them like a docile soldier, and as they stepped inside, Connor punched a button dangerously close to the top. The inside was empty save for the three of them, and as the doors closed slowly, cutting away the outside world bit by bit, Schlatt could feel his stomach working it’s way into heavy knots. 

—-

Floor 76 was smaller than the others, self-contained, tiny speakers pushing melodic piano music through the air like a sterile breeze. The carpet was black and plush, walls made of smooth wood, soothing paintings and potted ferns decorating the space. The elevator had opened up to a quiet hallway, lined on both sides with warm fluorescent lights, the walls leading to a set of mysterious shaded double doors. 

“D’you think that’s it?” Schlatt hissed nervously, pointing a stray finger at the door, tugging Ty’s wrist up slightly. 

Connor nodded silently, adjusting his tie and clearing his throat, and took a step down the hall. Their shoes thumped noisily against the carpet, and Schlatt sucked in a huge breath of air upon following his partner, exhaling shakily. 

“I can do this. I can do this. I can fuckin’ do this,” he muttered, ignoring Ty’s huff of annoyance as he was yanked forward in time with the words. The tall brunette next to them peered down at the pair and smiled determinedly, clapping Schlatt’s back with a stray hand. 

“Yeah you can, dude. You got this.” 

“I’m gonna make that sale and make us stupid amounts of money!” Came the response, louder and more confident, echoing around the hallway, making Ty wince slightly. 

“Yeah! And we’re gonna get a building like this!” Connor added, exhilarated, shaking the other man’s shoulders animatedly, barely attempting to stifle the loud burst of laughter that leaked from his throat. “Schlatt and Co. is going up, man!” 

“Schlatt and Co is goin’ up?! There’s nowhere else for us to go!” The dark eyed man cried matter-of-factly, ignoring his prisoner’s hurried shushing, instead tugging him forward even faster as the pair rushed closer to the door. The two business partners high-fived roughly, laughing overly loudly and making crass gestures towards the double doors. “Fuck yeah, baby! We’re in bu—-“ 

Suddenly, there was a very loud slam, and the doors to the conference room were thrown open. The three men immediately stopped in their tracks, bright red as they whirled around, only to be met by a scalding state. A man with graying hair and an ironed suit vest stood matter-of-factly in front of them, mustache curled to a point, arms holding the doors open rigidly. He clicked his tongue, looked at his notepad, then regained his earlier position quickly. 

“Mister Jonathan Schlatt and Connor Corduroy, here to see my client?” Came the scathing, monotone inquiry, and all three of them nodded slowly. The man’s eyes traveled up and down the pair, judgemental and brooding, stopping when he saw the paracord tying Ty and Schlatt together. “May… May I ask who this is?” 

“Unpaid intern,” Connor jumped in quickly, cutting the other two off before they even had time to speak. “Doing a shadowing program.” 

The man stopped for a second, stumbling over his words in confusion. “Ah… understandable, I suppose. Do come in, you’re already late.” 

As he moved aside, arms crossed over his chest guardedly, the room was shown in its full glory, sunlight spilling into the trio’s eyes from a huge, floor-to-ceiling window that took up the entire back wall. Potted plants were resting peacefully in the back, and a large projector screen was pulled down haphazardly near the side of the room. In the middle, a circular wooden conference table sat comfortably, gigantic with soft gray chairs placed at random intervals around its length. Faint guitar strumming hit Schlatt’s ears, and almost as soon as he was able to get a grasp on his bearings, he locked eyes with the man sitting at the farthest end of the table. 

“Ah! Didn’t see you three there!” Came the friendly call, voice smooth and sparkling. Schlatt’s mouth ran dry as he struggled to come up with words, gaze running over the investor that he was anticipating to meet. 

The man was lithe, sunny and warm like the room around him, and a smile that seemed to charismatically call out to everyone danced over his lips. He had curly brown hair that fell over his face in soft waves, framing his glowing features in a flattering, familiar way. A knit longsleeved sweater hung over his shoulders, loser and form-fitting at the same time, a dark brown that was tucked into gray jeans. He had his boots resting up on top of the table, a guitar in his lap, calloused hands running absently over the strings as he beckoned the three men closer. 

“Come on, then, I don’t bite.” He remarked coyly, nodding to the gray-haired man behind him before getting up to take long strides over to the trio. Schlatt watched as he reached him and Connor, holding out a hand, and vaguely noticed that the slender fingers were covered with band-aids. 

“Wilbur Soot, pleasure to meet you.” 

Connor was the first to find his voice, gripping Wilbur’s hand tightly, letting out an anxious smile. “Connor Corduroy with Schlatt and Co, hi.” 

“Ah, I talked to you on the phone, didn’t I?” The curly haired man recalled brightly, pointing a finger at the brunette, who nodded enthusiastically. Wilbur turned his gaze plainly to the still-shocked man that stood beside them, grinning as he brought an arm out to nudge Schlatt. “This must be the man himself, huh?” 

Finally snapping out of it, he jumped a little before taking a step forward, putting on his best winning smile. “Hi, Jonathan Schlatt.” 

“Jonathan,” Wil exclaimed, eyes narrowing playfully. “I have a friend with the same name.”

“Well, I’ll make sure to set myself apart from him, ah?” Came the rapid response, dripping with simulated confidence as he followed the investor back to his seat. He slid a thumb drive into the projector carefully, grinning when a tacky decorated slide popped up, framed brightly against the wall. 

“Oh,” the curly haired man piped up, running a thumb over his lip before pointing at Ty energetically. The boy stared back at him with shocked brown eyes, subconsciously tugging against the paracord, sleeve tightening around his wrist as he squirmed under the acknowledgment. “I thought there was only going to be two of you. Who’s this?” 

There was a short, palpable pause before the boy spoke up. “U-Uh… I’m Ty, Schlatt and Co’s unpaid intern..?” 

“Well, good for them!” Wilbur beamed, clapping his hands together softly as the two men next to him turned their gazes onto Ty, faces a mix of surprise and relief. “You look like a hard worker, anyways. So, Connor, Ty, and Jonathan…” the pop star paused, giving Schlatt a narrow smile that, for some reason, sent a red-hot blush upwards to paint his face. 

“Yes?” He asked quickly, ignoring the stares from the gray-haired man and his peers across the room. Wilbur spun back in his chair, settling his guitar comfortably on his lap, and laced his fingers together. 

“Blow me away, gentlemen.” 

—-

“Have you ever dreamt of an automated future? A future where people from all over the globe can connect with each other, bond over one single thing? A common thread that ties citizens from Russia and Brazil together, (stop lookin’ at me, Ty), and establishes good relations between even the farthest, most hostile countries? Look no further, Mister Soot, than currency.”

“Currency, money, if you will, is universal. Which is t’say, everyone in almost every corner of the world uses it. I mean, you need it to go down to the store and buy campaign merch, you need to bring money with you. However if you fly from, let’s say, the UK to America, you need to exchange pounds for good ‘ol US dollars. Then, if you decide to go swimmin’ with dolphins in Thailand, you’d exchange dollars for… Thai… money. What my company proposes is to create a unique and effective solution to that.”

“Introducing the innovative and sleek Schlattcoin, a fully functional, state-of-the-art cryptocurrency that can be used in almost every established place of business. What we have here is a rough lookin’ prototype of the final product, available in an easy-to-use application, so easy, in fact, that even Ty could navigate it without trouble. He, ah… hasn’t exactly tried yet, but we’re confident that even a toddler could utilize this wonderful app. You exchange 20 dollars for one Schlattcoin, and in turn, you can use the currency in any country in the world!” 

“See, there’s a real problem with exchanging money every time you fly from one place to another. As a… totally frequent traveler myself, I often find my own personage getting caught with heavy transaction fees, or, even worse, not really… havin‘ any money on me to exchange. But all the travelers’ worries that people like yourself have, Mr. Soot, will be gone followin’ the introduction of my brand new cryptocurrency: Schlattcoin.”

“With a fun and catchy name and universal appeal, my product and company will be sure to appeal to every crowd out there, from old people to… to babies. We’re meeting with you today to secure funding for a headquarters and updated app that would be ready for release sometime in the upcoming month. I mean, think of the prestige that would follow you if you were named as the first person to invest in a globally recognized brand! Plus, add on toppa that all the good that comes from using Schlattcoin, you can send money t’your gramma in Bangladesh! So… whattya say, Mister, ah… whattya say, Wilbur? Do you wanna help change the world..?” 

—-

Wilbur Soot’s signature was surprisingly neat, flowery cursive ink staining the dotted line with satisfying black letters. He wiped the end of the metal pen off with a stray washcloth, then blew on the yellow page gently, causing a slight ripple in the material. Holding it out cheerfully, he placed it in Schlatt’s outstretched hand, basking in the man’s exhilarated reaction. 

“Five hundred thousand dollars a month, Mr. Soot?! Are you sure?” Connor asked incredulously, leaning over his partner’s shoulder, gripping Ty by the forearm shakily in order to steady himself. The brunette kid beside them was almost faint as his eyes locked onto the amount, and he let out a barely suppressed giggle of excitement. 

“Connor, shut the hell up,” Schlatt hissed, but he was cut off by a genuinely kind laugh, echoing through the air like music. The dark-eyed man twisted the length of now-free paracord between his hands, almost regretting letting Ty go.

“Of course I’m sure, Mr. Corduroy.” Wilbur grinned, crossing his legs as they rested on top of the conference table, curly hair falling over his face lazily. “Obviously, I want results, but I’m more than happy to fund your business. I have a passion for entrepreneurship, if you couldn’t tell, and I enjoyed your pitch… quite a bit.” 

Schlatt gripped the check with one trembling hand, adrenaline still coursing through his veins from having to make his speech, and he locked eyes with the man across the table from him. “Thank… Thank you, it means a lot, man.” 

“I actually couldn’t help but wonder about your experience in all this, Schlatt.” Wilbur confessed sheepishly, beckoning the gray haired man from before closer and whispering quickly in his ear. “What did you get up to before starting this whole venture?” 

“Uh…” the dark-eyed man trailed off slightly, wishing with a fervency that he had brought a bottle of water. “Well, ah, I actually became involved with quite a few multimillion dollar fast food chains… management, of course. But I had disagreements with the way things were being run, and, after quite a bit of debate, I decided to pull out.” 

“You pulled out, huh?” Came the flashy remark, coupled with a wry smirk that seemed to be laughter in itself. 

“Yeah, I—-“ Schlatt’s eyes widened slightly as his brow furrowed, and he sat forward a bit in his chair. “What… what’s goin’ on here..?” He breathed out shakily, cheeks growing red with indignation. 

Across the table, Wilbur laughed loudly, smoothing out his sweater with sure hands. Connor and Ty stood confusedly nearby, watching the two with laser-hot eyes. “Relax, man, I’m kidding with you.”

The curly haired man glanced at his watch quickly, then stood up, pulling out a dress jacket that was the same shade of brown as almost everything on him. Wrapping it around his shoulders, he stood up matter-of-factly, giving the three men across from him a knowing smile. “Ah, it’s almost one. Looks like I’ve gotta head out, I’ve got the tour and all that I’m blocked up with.” 

“So soon?” Schlatt muttered quietly, but it was quickly swallowed up by Connor and Ty’s friendly voices as they moved to shake the investor’s hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you, sir,” Connor exclaimed excitedly, gripping Wilbur’s palm a bit too hard, followed by Ty, who extended the man a sheepish grin. 

“Nice to meet a forreal star, Mister Soot.” He voiced, cut off as Wil ruffled his hair playfully. 

“I could say the same to you, Ty. Keep at it, I’m sure your employers’ business’ll keep you busy,” he remarked, giving Schlatt a knowing wink as he approached the investor begrudgingly. He held out a hand to the man, and they gripped each other’s fingers firmly, never breaking eye contact even as the star let out one final quip. 

“You’re a special one, Jonathan Schlatt. I look forward to seeing what you get up to.”


	4. The First Time We Broke the Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wow, illegal stuff!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not much to say this time. hope you enjoy!

It was plush and soft in heaven, rolling clouds plump as they caressed Schlatt’s shoulders with a gentle touch, and he couldn’t help but to grab a handful of the swirling condensed rainwater and throw it into the air giddily. Angels sung around him, serenading him with light choral notes, and the fat cherubs reached into the hems of their clothes and threw down a cascade of money on top of the dark-eyed man. Laughing, he scooped it up, bounding over clouds as he rubbed the currency between two hands. Two beautiful women, hair fiery and stares blazing, sidled up to him, letting out breathy words of praise as he saw the building rise before his eyes, monumental and intimidating.

Schlatt and Co. A pillar of nuance and class, of sleek black doors and windows, a tower of wealth that he had built all by himself. He let out a content sigh, holding the wads of cash closer to his chest, and fell backwards into the bed of clouds. 

And then he felt something hit his head, sharp and stinging, and all at once his eyes fluttered furiously open until he was staring at the light blue comforter that was too big for his twin bed. Angry, he yanked the gray covers off of his legs, stomping over to the open window purposefully. The sky was gray and cloudless, and as he lunged his torso through the open pane, he sucked in a breath of frustrated air.

“Ty, I swear on my fuckin’ life we’re gonna have an issue!” He hollered, voice raspy as it escaped from his throat. The boy that was now looking up at him with huge, dinner plate eyes had a handful of pebbles in his palm, pink hood up over his hair, and he gave Schlatt a cocky smile. 

“Then lemme join the crew!” Ty responded loudly, tossing another pebble up towards the second floor and laughing as it narrowly missed Schlatt. 

The dark-haired man sucked in an angry breath through gritted teeth, fingers tightening as his nails dug into the soft wood of the windowsill. “Come on, kid! I already did you a bit a’ charity not turnin’ you in to the police a while ago, I’m not about to jeopardize our company just cuz you wanna be rich like me!” 

“You’re not rich! You live in an apartment!” 

“Maybe I’m conserving my wealth, ah? Y’ever consider that?” 

“Come on,” Ty crooned gently, lobbing another pebble lazily up in the direction of the window. Stretching up swiftly, Schlatt caught the rock between two fingers, hurling it roughly onto the ground with a snort of disdain. “You needa let me help you! I can be a real asset, or however you say it.” 

“I’m not even legally allowed to pay you!” The dark-haired man fired back, voice wavering tiredly, and he ran a rough hand over his face as he leaned on the windowsill. The boy was standing below him, arms crossed, grinning widely to himself as he threw a pebble upwards and caught it again. 

“Then do it illegally.” Came the response, paired with a flashy smile. “Besides, you don’t how old I am. I could be 16 for you, Mister Schlatt.” 

The man in the window groaned, closed his eyes, then opened them and watched the cars pass by for a moment. Having an intern could be nice, a fleeting yet loud thought mentioned, replaced with an unsure affirmation that swam around inside his head. 

A flock of birds flew by, and Ty rolled the tiny rocks in between two fingers, a hopeful look on his face. “I’ve got lotsa talents. I’m good with numbers and knives! And… it kinda looks like you need employees right about now anyways—-“

“Are you homeless, Ty?” Schlatt blurted out abruptly, silencing both of them at once. A surprised expression appeared quickly onto his face as he turned around and stared at the boy, who was gazing up at him with an unreadable expression. 

The sun peeked out behind gray clouds, and Ty responded with a level tone, “Why? Does it matter?” 

“It’s just that I don’t know anything about you, man.” Schlatt admitted, holding his hands out in surrender before bringing them upwards to tie up his hair. Slender, dark waves were falling over his eyes, and he scooped them back, snatching a black elastic off of the worn desk to his right. A couple walked by, staring confusedly at the pair, a man in the window, a boy that was beginning to sit down on the rough concrete. “I only want the best for my business, and to be fair, you didn’t exactly make the best impression.” 

Ty chuckled to himself, pulling his hoodie tighter around his head, looking up gently at the gray, swelling clouds. “My bad. You just looked important, and I needed the money.” 

“I looked important, ah?” 

“Don’t kid yourself too much, Mister Schlatt. I’ve pulled off harder heists before.” 

“I guess I just happened t’be the lucky one, huh?” The man in the window replied warmly, reaching his arms down to brush over the rough plaster exterior of the building, fiddling with the grooves and ridges of the wall. Sighing, he lifted his head slightly to gaze at the boy sitting 20 feet away, legs crossed and stare expectant as they locked eyes. 

“Shiiiit. Fine.” Schlatt huffed, pulling himself upright quickly, determined to ignore the energetic cheer that sounded from below him. “But, ah, I can’t pay you yet. Gimme time.” 

Jumping to his feet, Ty nodded swiftly, tugging his hoodie off of his head. “And I’m gonna count up every dollar you owe me ‘til then.” 

“This is extortion,” Schlatt grumbled, ducking back inside of his apartment and throwing a breezy blue sweater over his shoulders. The sun was beginning to creep through the clouds, evaporating the heavy blanket of mist that lay just outside the walls. Music played faintly outside, 90’s rap that echoed through the alley, and yet the dark-haired businessman could still hear one of Ty’s celebratory whoops. What had he gotten himself into..?

“Hey, kid!” He shouted, hoping the boy could hear him through the open window. Silence followed, then a muffled ‘Yeah?’ rang through the air. 

“Corner of Broadway and South in two hours! Don’t be late, and I’m not warnin’ you twice!”

Outside, Ty smiled happily, hands balling into fists as he skipped back down the road, warmth dusting his cheeks and breezy wind ruffling his hair. The bus stop wasn’t crowded as he fell into place, watching the behemoth pull into the side of the road, ignoring the busy chatter of people all around him. The gray window glinted sharply as the machine pulled out and thundered down the street, and, looking around, he giggled under his breath. 

He was gonna steal every last dollar that these poor saps owned. 

Sorry, Schlatt. It’s just business. 

—-

Connor was in over his head. The papers that had laid out on his desk for weeks had begun to pile up, and he didn’t even want to look at the contents. Contracts and paperwork, confirmation forms and meeting logs; he didn’t have the will to sit down and fill it all out. For the fifth time that day, he cursed Schlatt and the business, denouncing them both matter-of-factly, and took a huge bite of the burrito that lay abandoned next to his desk. 

Swallowing hard, he let out an angry sigh. The words on the page seemed to blend together, and he allowed his eyes to blur, until something caught his attention. Sitting up sharply, his gaze scraped over a paper buried underneath a mountain of other work, and he snatched it out with a quick hand. 

Connor was a math kid. Growing up, he had always looked forward to algebra, always got the highest scores on calculus tests, went on to major in business and minor in math. He loved numbers, the shape of them, the feeling of adding them together and substituting them for something else, melding equations to produce a single, finite answer. The feeling of getting the question right was one of his favorites, but as he stared down blankly at the page, he felt his stomach sink fast. 

It was a projected earnings sheet, one of the many he had punched lazily into the computer just minutes before he’d fallen asleep with his jaw resting on the keyboard. The chart was full and complicated, a spreadsheet with a dark blue line graph off to the side, and filled to the brim with numbers and percentages. Then, at the very bottom, lay the furious exclamation of red ink that drew Connor’s eye to the page. 

“Oh God…” he whispered, folding the paper over slowly, stare glued to the number. It was the estimated earnings of the company over the next year… and the outcome was in the negatives. 

“Shit…” Connor breathed shakily, running a trembling finger over the number, heart thumping too-loudly from beneath his ribs. He couldn’t believe it. How had he not seen this before? They had already purchased a top-of-the-line headquarters, secured an investor, copyrighted their name, they couldn’t afford to shut down now. And yet… the truth was inevitable. 

Schlatt and Co. would be bankrupt by the end of the year. 

—-

“Ready to have your mind blown, Ty?” Schlatt asked, nudging the boy with a stray hand towards the door of the office. It was a bustling half-floor right in the middle of the building, businesswomen chatting professionally through earpieces, interns running around frantically with coffee in their hands. They were on the twelfth story, halfway up the building, in the only free office space in the entirety of Wall Street. 

To Schlatt, he had made it. 

“Check it out!” He exclaimed excitedly, throwing open the frosted glass doors and breezing into the entrance to their headquarters, the new-carpet smell hitting their faces almost as soon as they came in. A receptionist desk sat at the front of the decently-sized space, rolling chair and computer already in place with a large potted plant sitting comfortably on the floor next to it. Just beyond the welcome area, two doors lead into separate offices, one set up clumsily with two light desks and the other with a bigger, darker oak one. Ceiling-to-floor windows rose from the ground to give way to a dazzling view outside, skyscrapers rising into the air above a throng of residential buildings. 

“Wow,” Ty breathed, rushing over to the big office, running calloused hands over the cool surface of the table. Darting around the room, he turned on the computer, rubbed the leaves of a fake plant, and pressed his cheek into the chilly glass, leaving a giddy breath print behind. “Hey, Mr. Schlatt, how’d we manage to secure this place..?” 

“Connor’s got connections n’ all that.” The other man answered dismissively, standing at the door with his hands in his suit pockets and a huge grin on his face. “Also, ah… the money from Wilbur probably helped too.” 

“What’s the plan, then?” Ty prodded, following Schlatt as he investigated the other office, a slightly smaller space with two grain desks facing each other. “I mean, there’s three of us and four desks. Don’t we have t’get someone else to do secretary work?” 

“We definitely do,” The dark-eyed man answered promptly, leaning on the corner of the table, running a stray hand over the disconnected keyboard. “Preferably a young, hot—-“

Suddenly, the doors were flung open furiously, causing the two to jump, startled, and whip their heads around in the direction of the noise. Connor stormed inside, arms full of pages and blueprints and rolls of paper, and he slammed the doors shut with a violent sweep. Ty and Schlatt moved instinctively backwards, hands raised, and watched as the brunette sucked in a deep breath of air and began laying each page out on the secretary desk as gently as he could. 

Schlatt stepped forward tentatively, adjusting his tie with a nervous hand. “What, ah… what’s happenin’, Connor..?” 

“I’ll tell you what!” He cried, stepping back definitively and pointing at the pages that were laid expertly out on the table. “Look at this!”

Slowly, cautiously, the two leaned out of the office doorframe, taking a couple steps forward and leaning down to peer over the edge of the false wood. Eyes running over the paperwork, Ty let out a gasp and scrambled forward suddenly, fingers curling around the edge of the roll. 

“No way,” he exclaimed, drowning out Schlatt’s confused utterance of, “Wait, I don’t get it,” as he stared up at Connor with huge eyes. 

“Did all the math myself last night. Double and triple-checked it this morning. We’re SO fucked.” The brunette groaned, pacing angrily around the room. Schlatt noticed vaguely that he was still wearing the huge yellow t-shirt and gray sweats that he usually wore on days off, and remarked to himself that he told Connor not to come in today. Now, though, he was glad that his partner did.

“What… what do you mean, man?” Schlatt asked gingerly, catching Connor by the arm and spinning him around so they could face each other. The other man’s features were contorted in a mask of worry and frustration, and he felt a pang of anxiousness flit over his own face. “Calm down, alright? What’s goin’ on to get you so worked up like this?” 

The panicked man swallowed hard, rubbed the back of his arm and chewed his lip as if he was truly considering telling his partner, before letting out a deep sigh. Ty was watching them was a sharp blue eye, fixated on them as he held the paper between two hands, wrinkles and tears already starting to form in the places where he was gripping it too hard. 

“Schlatt… we….we’re gonna go bankrupt, man.” Came the nearly-whispered sentence, followed by widened eyes and a hardly audible gasp. 

“You’re fuckin’ me,” The dark-haired man cried, racing over to the table and shuffling the papers erratically, holding them up to the light and squinting, eyes blurring at the sight of all the numbers. “There’s no way!” 

“Sorry about your business.” Ty conceded, statement steady and somber. “The math adds up.” 

“It can’t! We haven’t even sold anything yet!” Schlatt insisted, voice breaking a little, throat clogging as he scooped up the pages, thumbed through them, threw them onto the floor. Sinking to his knees, he ran his blurry gaze over each blueprint, each receipt, hoping to see a green number somewhere, ANYwhere. Instead, all he saw was a sea of red and black, plastered over each quarterly report and funding plan. He sucked in a shaky breath, collected the paperwork, and found his way to his feet. He couldn’t believe it, and as he turned his back to the two behind him, reaching out to put the pile back onto the table, he heard someone speak. 

“I feel bad, man, I really do.” Came Connor’s voice, a little faded as it reached Schlatt’s ears. “But… maybe it’s time to throw in the towel, y’know. It was a really good try, but maybe… maybe business isn’t for you.” 

Whirling around, Schlatt hurled the papers at the pair, anger bursting from his chest like a spout of hot flames. “No.” 

“Wh-What..?” 

Eyes blazing, the man stepped forward, pointing an incriminating finger furiously at his partner. “You aren’t fuckin’ deaf, Connor, you heard me! I said no! I’m not givin’ up now just cuz some numbers don’t add up! Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?! I’ve worked too hard to end up grilling fuckin’ bacon at the diner again! I wanna DO something with my life, don’t you get it?! All your life you’ve been prepping to be the next CEO of your dad’s company, you’ve had people there for you cheerin’ you on! I don’t know what that feels like! I’ve never, NEVER known! You don’t know what it feels like to be nothing..!” 

The office was silent. Ty looked back and forth nervously between the two men, stepping back to give them a bit of space. Connor’s eyes were big and swimming, face shocked and pale as he stared back at his partner. Schlatt took a slight step back, realizing with a slow sinking feeling the weight of his frustrated words, and tried in vain to control his now-strangled breathing. 

There was a minute of quiet tension before Connor spoke, steady and cool. 

“Okay, Schlatt. I get it.” He replied, folding his arms over his chest and allowing an indecipherable stare to rest on the other man. “But I don’t know if there’s anything we can do. We should’ve had a better business model and I wish I could’ve caught it sooner. But… when you’re bankrupt, you’re bankrupt.” 

“And there’s really nothin’ we can try?” The dark-eyed man uttered between gritted teeth. 

“Well…” the pause was drawn out for too long as the brunette looked first at Schlatt, then at Ty, who was standing off to the side guiltily with his hands in his pockets. “The, uh… the companies that do this are doing it illegally, but basically, they allot more money than is actually given to their bank sum and specific investors. That way they can avoid getting taxed more, and they make more money that way. But… it’s… it’s illegal, Schlatt. You could go to prison for this.” 

The room was silent again as the other man collapsed into a nearby chair, staring with a focused eye at the ground, the gears turning quickly inside his head. Connor glanced up at Schlatt for a second, then did a swift double take, face falling when he realized what his partner was actually considering. 

“Schlatt! Holy shit dude, you can’t be thinking about this seriously. It’s called tax evasion, look it up! You could get us all in trouble!” 

“How often do they check that kinda stuff?” Ty piped up, moving a shifty glance between the two men and the papers that were now crumpled on the ground. “If we get some good connections, maybe we can get immune from whatever they use t’throw us in jail.” 

“No, we are NOT doing this, Ty. Schlatt doesn’t mean it.” Connor announced firmly, taking a step back to put his arm up protectively in front of the smaller boy. The dark-haired man across the room eyed them uncertainly, fingertips pressed together, and swallowed hard. 

“Listen, Connor,” he began slowly, sentence interrupted by protests that died out when he raised a steady hand. “You’ve been my best friend for years now, right?” 

An apprehensive look, an uncomfortable shift backwards. “R...Right.” 

“And you said you’d support me in this business no matter what, ah?” 

“I didn’t mean—“

“Did you say that?” 

Connor sighed once, a long, drawn out exhale, and nodded. “Sure, man. But this thing you’re doing… it could get both of us into some real trouble. I don’t wanna have to share a cell with you.” 

“That’s the beauty of it, you won’t have to!” Schlatt exclaimed, jumping up from his seat excitedly, startling the others. “Remember the job I held down for a couple weeks at the law firm?” 

“The Prince Registrate?” Connor cocked his head slightly to the side, drawing his arms in and folding them quizzically over his chest. “Yeah, and your boss was the lady with the weird eye, I remember. What about it?” 

Now pacing energetically, tapping his shoe on the ground rapidly like he always did when he figured something out, Schlatt waved his arms as he spoke. “I was workin’ with this one guy, old guy, who was in trouble for his taxes. I did some research and he owned a business like us, right? Well, turns out that if you make payments regularly for a fixed amount of time, you get good guy status and they won’t check on you until the next year! So, if we do our taxes and slowly start to mark the amount down, we’ll be fine until the yearly check. Then, right before they come to get us, we’ll pay a lump sum back and make everything right! It gives us time to make bank before the payment is due. See, it’s barely illegal!” 

“Hey, keep your voice down, dumbass!” Connor exclaimed, leaping forward to shush his partner, glancing around furtively. “Fine, we go with your plan. What then?” 

“Then, baby, we get rich!” 

—

“So that was the first time you broke the law, huh?” Fitz prodded flatly, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed sternly over his chest. He clicked his tongue once, motioning with his head in the direction of the gargantuan man behind him. “Swagger, make a note of that time please, it could be useful. ...I asked you a question, Schlatt.”

“Question..?” Came the dazed response from the man tied to the chair. 

Fitz gritted his teeth and exhaled exasperatedly. “Was that the first time you broke the law?” 

“In… in my life, no. But for the business, yeah.” He slurred tiredly, eyes blurry as he blinked first the right one, then the left. It was cold in that room, so cold, and he wished they could give him a blanket. “I shouldn’t have done it. I shoulda just… shoulda just let the business fail.” 

“Well, Schlatt, I’m glad you didn’t.” Fitz replied icily, a mocking smile dancing over his lips. “Means more money for me now. Continue, please. How did the tax evasion help?” 

“Helped us… helped us create the app.” Schlatt remarked, exhaustion tugging at every bone in his body. He needed a nap, he needed to sleep in his bed again and not a fancy, feather-stuffed hotel mattress that felt empty. He almost missed his apartment bed from so long ago, the sound of the city outside, the small, homely place. If he survived this… he’d probably go back and visit it again. “Helped us come up with the Less for More plan. Oh god…” 

“The Less for More plan? You never mentioned that to me before.” The masked man remarked cruelly, lacing his fingers together, breath coming out in spiked clouds as it traveled through the icy air. 

“Well, go on. I wanna hear this get GOOD.”


	5. The Less for More Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> schlatt schemes and scams  
last semi-normal chapter before shit goes down

“First applicant, come in, please.” Connor cleared his throat gently, shifted in his seat, then placed his hands professionally in front of him. Glancing at the man next to him, the dark-eyed schemer that was already looking bored, he let out a short sigh before repositioning himself as the door opened. 

“Hi,” the applicant in the doorway gave the two a sheepish smile, extending a hand to grip Connor’s firmly. He was tall and lean with short brown hair and rimmed glasses, and his suit sat a bit loosely on his gaunt frame. Pulling the chair back slightly, the man sat down, smoothing the front of his shirt down swiftly. “Ted Nivison, nice to meet you.” 

“Connor Corduroy, it’s a pleasure.” 

There was a bit of a pause before the brunette kicked his partner sharply under the table, causing him to jump up, knees thudding against the wood. 

“Ow! Shit! Uh… sorry, I’m Jonathan Schlatt.” He stammered, shooting Connor an icy stare as he leaned down to rub his sore calf. 

Ted blinked once, then smiled quizzically. “The titular Mr. Schlatt, huh?” 

“The one and only.” Came the reply, coupled with a flashy grin that only served to irritate Connor even more. 

“Right,” the man continued, annoyed, adjusting his dark blue tie and running a hand gently through his hair, “Let’s get down to it. Since we’re currently hiring for a secretary job, we need someone with plenty of experience in scheduling, online maintenance, and record keeping. What’s your experience level in these subjects?”

“I can do them all, Mr. Corduroy.” Ted answered truthfully, a small smile flitting over his chiseled features. Drumming his fingers on the desk lightly, he shifted his resume until it faced Connor, who picked it up and thumbed through it rigidly. “I’ve had jobs at a bunch of firms before, if you gotta know. Insurance, bail bonds, stock brokers, you name it, I’ve kept records for it. My words per minute on a standard computer average around 95, so if you have it, I can get it done fast.” 

“Mm,” Connor voiced, folding the manila resume and placing it facedown on the desk. “That’s pretty impressive, man. And, ah… what made you get discharged, if that’s the right word, from your previous jobs?” 

Ted’s sunny, confident demeanor fell away for just a second, quick as a flash, before he spread his palms over the table and let another grin wash over his lips. “Well, I love change, y’know? Those jobs get a little boring after awhile, and I’m just… such a free spirit. I need excitement, you get me?”

“I get you.” Came the flat response. 

Ted faltered and cleared his throat. “A-Anyways, I’m really thankful that you guys reached out to me for this position. I’ve never really worked for an independent business before, especially not one that engineers such an ingenious product. I just really—-“

“The thing is, Mr. Nivison,” Connor interjected sharply, opening a drawer underneath the desk, pulling a few documents out purposefully as he turned back to the interviewee. Ted had gotten a bit pale now as he eyed first the papers, then Schlatt, who was now staring between the two with thinly veiled interest. “We did a little digging when looking for hardworking bookkeepers for the business, and, well… you weren’t exactly asked to leave politely from your last couple ‘a jobs, right?” 

Ted crossed his arms defensively over his chest, face pale and movements a bit weak. “I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Really?” Connor asked, voice a bit more prodding as he leaned over the desk. Schlatt sat back in awe as he watched his partner’s face harden, mannerisms smooth and businesslike, and he wondered for a split second why he had never seen this side of him before. Ted had moved back in his chair, breathing a bit shallow as his eyes darted swiftly between the door and the man in front of him, who by now was stretched over the desk intimidatingly. “Because we have your transcripts here. It only took a little investigation, that’s all.” 

The other man’s response came out strangled. “I… I really…” 

“Fired and detained for four counts of money laundering and tax evasion through business property,” Connor read from the document, eyes narrowing triumphantly. “Effective on the 29th of September to Ted R. Nivison. What’d you say your name was again?” 

The two were still for a moment as they stared each other down, gazes unwavering, one unsure and one victorious. From his seat, Schlatt held his breath, glancing back and forth between them, nervous as Ted slowly cleared his throat and smoothed down his slacks with shaky hands. 

“I… you, ah, you got me.” He mumbled quietly, giving the pair behind the desk plaintive looks as he held up his hands in surrender. A small chuckle escaped his lips, and he stood up suddenly, picking his resume off of the table and jamming it back into his briefcase. “Guess that means I’m not getting the job. Thanks for your time, boys.” 

“Wait! On the contrary, man!” Schlatt jumped to his feet just as the brunette went to turn around, trembling hand extended towards the doorknob. Ted jumped slightly and looked back with a confused raise of the eyebrow. “We wanna hire you!”

Silence. “What…?” 

“Listen, and sit down, ah?” Schlatt announced, striding around the table and pulling out his chair, using a hand to coax the tall man back into his seat. Clapping his hands together once, he rummaged through his case and pulled out a slightly crumpled spreadsheet. “We… we ran some numbers, right?” 

Ted looked up unsurely, anxiously twisting his fingers together. “Right.” 

“And ah… we figured that we could use a bit of extra money in the long run, to help run things smoothly, y’know?” Schlatt lowered his voice slightly, leaning closer to the other man, oblivious to Connor’s bewildered stare. “And we figure you’re our guy.” 

Ted was silent for a second, the same confused expression on his face, before the words finally sunk in and he slowly turned around to give Schlatt a sideways look. “So you… so you want me to run your money for you?” 

“Whatever the term is for you people,” he affirmed dismissively, cracking his knuckles with a blithe, swift motion. “I trust y’know what I’m talkin’ about?” 

Everyone was quiet for a moment as a short silence stretched through the air, and Ted bit his lip thoughtfully, gaze turned towards the carpeted floor. The clock on the wall ticked past, and wordlessly, the tall brunette smoothed down the front of his gray suit and gave the two men a mischievous grin. 

“Count me in, gentlemen.” 

—

“And THIS is to the business!” Schlatt slurred, draped like clumsy silk over the desk, waving the bottle of too-expensive champagne in the air dramatically. The office was dark, bathed in twinkling multicolored light from the huge floor-to-ceiling window, showcasing the bustling nightlife of the city below. It was still and calm in the building, past midnight and already quiet, the silence only broken by Schlatt’s occasional drunk exclamations or Ty’s pleas to ‘just try a sip’. 

The faint light highlighted Connor’s determined face as he traced circles on the cloth covering his chest, rough suit material that already made him feel like a different person, and he found himself missing his old sweater and overalls. His head was resting on the brand-new carpet as he laid on his back, Ty less than a foot away, humming a quiet, happy song under his breath. Schlatt was perched on top of the desk, blabbering aimlessly, sometimes talking to himself and sometimes talking to his two partners that were lying stiffly on the office floor. 

“What does it taste like..?”

Schlatt raised an eyebrow in intoxicated amusement. “Tastes like… like champagne, Ty.” 

“So is it sweet?” Came the wheedling response as the kid snuggled further into his pale hoodie. 

The dark haired man waved a hand dismissively, holding out the dark glass bottle between two fingers. “Mm, try it n’ tell me yourself.” 

“No way,” Connor interjected sharply, narrowing his hazel eyes as he snatched the alcohol away from his partner, corking it and rolling it underneath the table. “And you’ve had enough, too.” 

“Okay, mom.” Schlatt’s voice was quiet and laced with sarcasm as he fell back onto the hard, faux wood surface, letting out a drawn out sigh that permeated the crisp office air. Lacing his fingers together over his chest, he gazed up at the ceiling with blurry eyes, contentedness washing like a wave over his body. “...This is fuckin’ insane, Connor. I can’t believe we’re finally doin’ it.” 

“Hey, don’t forget about me,” Ty responded flatly.

“Yeah, and you. You weren’t a part a’ the original plan but… I’m glad you’re here anyways.” 

“I’m glad I get PAID, too, Mister Schlatt. Don’t forget.” 

“Stuff it, kid.” 

Connor sat up slowly and stared out of the window, watching cars pass by, the twinkle of headlights barely blips on the tiny strip of road that lay below. “You know that this isn’t all we have t’do, right?” 

Schlatt whipped his head around to face his partner, eyes already wide as he watched the back of the other man’s head. “Wha… whaddya mean?” 

“Even with the… the bonus money from the taxes, we’re barely getting by. That’s not gonna look good to Mr. Soot, and if he pulls his investment… “ Connor turned around gently, and looked back at the dark-haired man who was slowly going pale sympathetically. “I mean, you know what would happen, man.” 

“Shit.” 

“Mhm.” 

Ty straightened up last, sleeves empty as he tucked his arms inside the hoodie, and yawned once before speaking. “We have that big business conference thing with your dad’s friends comin’ up soon, right, Connor?” 

“Yeah, the ones with Daire Industries.” The brunette confirmed quizzically, tucking his knees closer to his chest. 

“So, ah… aren’t we gonna get more money from them?” 

“Doesn’t work that way, Ty,” Connor replied plainly, turning around and pressing his back to the cool glass. “Wish it did. We already have the app built thanks to Mr. Soot, but customizing it for a huge company to use is gonna cost us big time. Half of the money from the commissioned use, if we even get it, will go to optimizing Schlattcoin to be used to transport hundreds of thousands of dollars. Besides, we’re doing this BEFORE we even release the app to the public, so…” 

“...So… so we give ‘em less for more!” Schlatt exclaimed, leaping up from his perch on the desk and already starting to pace quickly. He yanked the hairtie out of his dark waves, letting the locks fall around his face, and he stretched the elastic concentratedly between two fingers. “That can save us a tonna dough!”

“Not another one of your smartass schemes, Schlatt.” Connor groaned, burying his head in his hands as he looked up at his partner with a sideways glare. 

“Hey, my ‘schemes’ worked, didn’t they?” The other man interjected insistently, folding his arms over his chest begrudgingly. “Besides, the more money we save, the bigger chance we have of makin’ it multiply! And for the record… my plan is good.” 

The office was still, dark with only the thrumming lights of the city outside. Schlatt’s mischievous last sentence tumbled through the air like a chaotic breeze, and as it reached Ty’s ears, he scrambled to his feet quickly. 

“So,” the boy stopped to yawn, “what’s this cool less-for-more thing you’ve got?” 

—  
Schlatt has never flown before. He had seen it countless times in movies, the stark and bustling terminals, the crowded commercial class seats, the tiny cardboard trays filled to the brim with steaming airplane food. The thought of being that high in the air exhilarated him, thousands of miles above the ground in a metal bird that zipped through the air like lightning. It was what famous people did, rich people who traveled all over the world and met leaders and businessmen. 

This is my first chance at bein’ like that, he thought excitedly, lugging his suitcase behind him as he walked into the overly air-conditioned terminal. Connor was trailing behind, glancing every few seconds at a printed map of the airport, yelling for Ty to stay with them constantly. They made their way to their gate, bought food at the plane drugstore nearby, laid on the floor and watched people walk by. The brunette was hard at work on the analytics of his pitch, laptop open and resting on his thighs comfortably, and the kid sat restlessly in his seat, trying to count how many different languages he heard. 

The attendants called for boarding, ‘Flight 15, New York to Orlando, please’, and Schlatt felt a rush of nerves as he stepped onto the makeshift plastic tunnel that led to the plane doors. His footsteps thudded on the carpeted floor of the aisle, and as he settled into his seat, he could feel his heart hammering against his ribs. 

“Connor, man, I don’t… I mean… shit,” he gasped incredulously, trying to reign in his panicked breathing as he looked out of the window and locked his eyes onto the fat tire that was already starting to roll down the runway. His partner looked him up and down and asked a questioned concernedly, but the dark-haired man didn’t hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears. 

And then, in the blink of an eye, they were off, and the fear subsided entirely. Schlatt let out a weak smile as he sank further into his tiny economy class seat. The plane had launched off of the runway, rattling like an old bird as it flew higher and higher, and was now smooth as it rode the air like waves. Ty, who was sitting in the middle of the two men, had already fallen asleep, curled up into a ball in his usual hoodie, head lying against the stiff armrest. 

Three hours later, Schlatt counted his blessings as the hunk of metal came to a stop on a sun-bleached leg of the Orlando International Airport. He nudged Ty with a stray arm, who mumbled something quietly and blinked slowly, and Connor shut his laptop to give the two a slight smile. Their legs felt wobbly as they stepped out of the terminal, and the bright light blinded them the second they took a breath of the baked air. 

“It’s hot out here,” Ty grumbled, still groggy from his nap. Rubbing at his eyes, he kicked a rock that was resting on the curb. The outside of the terminal was a bustling concrete pickup station, two lanes leading to and from the site, and the noise was almost deafening. Cars drove around them chaotically, drivers yelling and huge families rushing to cram themselves into a taxi. A flock of birds flew overhead, screaming back and forth to each other, singing their cacophonous song as they nearly swooped too low to the trio. 

“Yeah, can you imagine how it gets in the summer? Jesus, these guys are insane to wanna live around this area.” Schlatt complained, stripping off his jacket and crumpling it messily inside his briefcase, actions coupled with a sigh that traveled upwards into the humid air. “Hopefully your dad’s business friends don’t mind if we strut in there shirtless, ah?” 

“Very funny,” Connor replied tersely, but a faint grin had already danced over his lips. Nudging his partner’s shoulder, he tugged Schlatt closer, pointing at the throng of cars that swarmed around them like bees. “Keep an eye out man, our driver’s not gonna wait for long when he pulls up. We have to watch for him.” 

“Well what… what’s our car look like?” The dark-eyed man asked quizzically, staring off into the distance as his gaze raced over the metal monsters that stood regally in front of them. Two drivers got into a screaming match with each other, a man broke down sobbing when a toddler waddled over to greet him, and an elderly lady sat by the concrete curb and played Solitaire. 

“I don’t actually know,” Connor admitted, running a hand through his hair sheepishly, glancing down at his phone with a wary eye. “I guess I probably should’ve asked, huh?” 

Schlatt felt a tug on the sleeve of his white button-up, and waved it away with a stray hand as he turned back to the brunette in front of him. “Not now Ty, gimme a minute,” he muttered, slightly annoyed when the tug turned into a sharp yank. 

“Ty, I said…” 

He trailed off suddenly, mouth running dry when he looked to his left, past the boy’s outstretched hand as he pointed to what was in front of them. A sleek black limo hummed down the closest lane, tires smooth as silk as they cruised over the asphalt, turning heads and causing audible whistles to sound throughout the dropoff area. 

“Slick ass car!” A gruff-looking man nearby uttered, low cheers coming from his friends that stood nearby, driving a spike of noise into Schlatt’s already stuffy brain. 

“Is… is that for us?” The dark-haired man sputtered breathlessly, eyes widening as he saw a printed sign in the window, starched white paper with the words “Schlatt and Co. Guests” printed on it in formal, bold lettering. He gazed at the machine in awe as he stepped closer, tugging Ty behind him and leaving a shocked Connor at the curb. 

Slowly, the front shaded window rolled down, and a man’s face was revealed, angular and sharp as he flicked down his sunglasses, icy eyes staring lazily at the trio. “You Mr. Schlatt?” 

“Y-Yeah I am.” Came the slightly breathy reply as the flustered dark haired man extended a hand towards the mysterious employee. The employee looked boredly in his general direction, tucked his arm inside the car, and motioned silently to the back of the limo. 

“Asshole,” Schlatt hissed under his breath as soon as the window was rolled back up, but he turned to Connor with a million-dollar grin and gripped his partner’s shoulders with a fiery intensity. “This is the life, man! Jesus, look at what they sent out for us, ah? We’re the talk of the town!” 

“That’s not always a good thing,” Connor replied, voice hushed as he ushered Ty to the car, hesitating slightly and letting a shifty look roam the pickup spot. Trailing around to the rear end of the limo, the brunette stopped and stared pointedly at his partner, concern weaving through his voice like a fine thread. “The business up here is cutthroat, man. Maybe they’re tryin’ to intimidate us.” 

Schlatt scoffed, rounding the corner of the car as he ran his fingers over the glossy black exterior. ”They’re what now? Givin’ us a ride in this sweet-ass limo is probably normal for those rich bastards, but sure, color me intimidated.”

“Don’t you have any sense?” Connor growled, letting out a low grunt as he lifted the suitcase into the back of the trunk, exhaling slightly as he bent over to adjust it when it slid against the suede interior. “I forgot that you have absolutely no fucking idea about anything business related, so let me clue you in. This flashy car, all the fancy stuff that they let you see and use, is all part of the game. They make you feel inferior as a start-up so they can take advantage of you, man. Plus, it’s good to show off in front of the other companies anyways, show ‘em what you’re made of.” 

“Jokes on them,” Schlatt murmured haughtily, cracking his knuckles as he looked back and leaned against the side of the car. His eyes swept over the shaded windows, and when he saw Ty sitting impatiently inside, he turned back towards his partner. “We don’t have to intimidate this big-ass corporation in order to take advantage of ‘em. Just stick to the plan and we’ll be loaded!” 

“Keep your voice down, dumbass.” Connor sighed, lifting the last suitcase inside and slamming the trunk down with a loud thud. 

As they opened the doors, they locked eyes with Ty, who was perched up on his seat uncomfortably, tugging at his sleeves and fiddling with the ends of his hoodie strings. Schlatt made a quick mental note to get the kid a suit one of these days, and slid inside the formal limo quickly, followed by his weary partner. There were two men in the front seat, the skinny ice-blonde man from before, and a sharp-looking woman with shapely white gloves. She flexed her hands over the wheel, gave the trio in the back a pointed look, and started up the car. 

“So, ah… heavy traffic on the way here?” Schlatt asked plainly, a light smile touching down on his face. 

Nothing but silence followed, and the driver turned up the radio with a single gloved hand. An old 40’s tune blared faintly over the loudspeakers, and the dark haired man cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“Takin’ that as a yes. Well, I’ll tell you something, lady and gentleman, the weather up here literally couldn't be more different than New York. I mean, over there, a strong breeze could knock you down, but the heat in Orlando is killin’ me, man.” 

Silence again. Schlatt let out a nervous laugh. 

“Tough crowd, ah?”

“Shut up, man.” Connor tugged the back of Schlatt’s jacket sharply, handing his partner the seatbelt buckle as he sighed. “We get it, you’re a New Yorker, you like to talk. Time and place for everything. Now be like Ty and save it for the presentation.” 

The kid, sitting with his legs tucked up into his hoodie, gave Connor a faint smile, and continued to stare glassily out of the window. As Schlatt sat back in his seat, he noticed that Ty was fidgeting worriedly with his clothes, twisting his fingers together in anxious apprehension, and he couldn’t understand for a moment why. The plan was simple and there was no way that either of them could mess anything up, so long as his business partners kept their mouths shut.

They were gonna get rich! What was the kid worked up about? 

—

The office was big and spacious, yet had a tight feeling about it, like every smooth, angular surface was pressing in on them. The trio had gazed out the window at palm trees and smoggy buildings, scantily clad men and women strolling down the street, emboldened billboard signs, until they had passed an intersection and pulled off into a bustling side street. The sleek limo turned heads everywhere they went, and as they entered the business district, they saw men and women in briefcases stop and point. The skyscrapers here were all pointed and gray, all marble pillars and glossy windows, and Schlatt had stared in amazement at the offices, daydreaming about owning one someday. 

They had reached a sub-level of one of the taller buildings in the industrial strip, and peeled off into a basement parking garage. The air was slightly dark and humid as they stepped out of the limo, and Connor inhaled a deep breath, smelling exhaust and sterile cleaning supplies. An elevator had taken them up to the main floor as the two towering employees stood frigidly behind them, and they stepped out one at a time, looking around in amazement. 

The words “Daire Software” were printed on every surface, a tight cursive that glared down at them with professional contempt, and a giant crystal chandelier decorated the top of the lobby. The receptionist team, a four person rotating militia, greeted them with automated smiles and offered to send word to their employer that the Schlatt and Co. ambassadors had arrived. 

And so, Connor, Schlatt, and Ty found themselves waiting behind the silver double doors of the entrance office, glancing at each other nervously. 

“Glad those drivers are gone.” Schlatt whispered, wringing his hands worriedly, eyes darting between his associates and the door handle. 

“Me too.” Ty replied, voice small as he shuffled his feet over the ground, basking in the artificial white light. Everything about the office screamed clean, professional, and ruthless. 

“When did he say he was supposed to meet us?” The dark-eyed man asked as he adjusted his tie for the fourth time that day. 

Connor scraped his gaze over the dark green fern that adorned the side of the doors. “3 PM. It’s 3:32, but you have to understand that these guys work on their own schedule. They’re apparently too important to show up anywhere on time, and it’s probably possible that he—-“ 

Suddenly, the doors were flung open, and the trio leapt back instinctively, watching in awe as a huge behemoth of a man stomped loudly out to greet them. 

“CONNOR?!” He boomed excitedly, a huge smile showing off his sparkling white teeth, and he scooped the brunette up into a bone-crushing bear hug that caused the smaller man to gasp for air. “It’s been so long, my boy! How are you?!” 

The man was hulking, at least 6’10, with arms the size of Schlatt’s torso and a clean-shaven head that you could definitely see your own reflection in. He was wearing a clean pressed suit and a tie that was covered in cartoon pumpkins, and he grinned at the two as they watched him in awe. Connor stumbled slightly as he was set back onto his feet, and he took a deep, restrictive breath before clearing his throat.

“H-Hey, Mr. Daire.” The brunette managed to respond, extending a hand and watching with wide eyes as the man shook it, enveloping most of his pale fingers within a single fist. 

“Please, call me Rob. You know I don’t care for formalities.” He ushered them inside with a friendly wave, throwing the doors open wider as he strode confidently into the room. “How’s your father doing?” 

Connor rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, brushing down his suit and tugging at his sleeves. “He’s pretty good. There’s this big conference in Dubai comin’ up, he said he’s excited to go.” 

“Oh, of course he is,” Rob waved his hand sullenly as he scoffed, leading them past a table as he pulled out a chair for each of them. “Only so many of those self-righteous conferences that you can go to before it starts to get old.” 

He rounded the corner, sipped gently out of a silver thermos emblazoned with the company logo, and glanced pointedly at the three of them. “And who are these two young gentlemen?” 

“Hi, Jonathan Schlatt.“ The dark haired man rushed to shake hands with the towering giant in front of him, surprised at how painfully strong his grip was. “Nice— nice to meet you.” 

“Ah, the presenter. It’s nice having a company named after you, huh?” Rob asked, deafeningly thunderous chuckling echoing through the meeting room. “And you, little man?”

“Ty, intern for Schlatt and Co.” Ty wrapped his hand around the man’s finger and shook it unprompted, causing yet another round of laughter to erupt from Rob’s chest. 

“Pleased to meet you all.” He smiled sideways, stared past them for a moment, then suddenly clapped his hands together quickly. “Well, I think I kept you boys waiting long enough, huh? I’ll get the committee here ASAP so you can start the presentation.” 

Schlatt and Connor eyed each other, then the meeting room as Rob thundered over to the wall-mounted phone and punched in a quick series of numbers. The meeting area was spacious, bright, with huge chandeliers stretching downwards towards the marble center table. Soft swiveling armchairs were stationed around it, with dark potted ferns laid out in a pattern precisely throughout the room. The walls were a mix of silver metal and black paint, with a huge silver company logo mounted on the flat surface. Daire Software, it proclaimed, it’s statement almost as loud as the man who owned it. 

Suddenly, there was a commotion outside of the door, and the trio whipped their heads around just to be greeted by a parade of suit-clad men, all between 25 and 50, as they entered the meeting room. They took their places almost robotically, talking amongst themselves as they threw out words like “revenue”, “takeover”, “percentages”.” Each armchair was eventually filled with a man, and as they sat down, it got quieter and quieter as they turned their icy eyes onto Schlatt and Co. 

The dark haired man was speechless, mouth dry and throat scratchy as he stared at all the wealthy, angled faces that scrutinized him. Connor stepped back, mouth agape as he tugged Ty with him, the two intimidated as they stood shakily next to each other. Rob cleared his throat, silencing his colleagues, and gave Schlatt a calculated smile. 

“Don’t be intimidated, my friends are nice.” He announced, a reassuring yet sharp tone lacing through his voice. “Now, if you don’t mind, Mister Schlatt…

“The floor is yours.” 

—

Late night. The office, and the bottle of alcohol that lay discarded under the table, black glass rubbing against rough carpet. They had all been sitting upright, watching and listening as the face of Schlatt and Co. hatched his second twisted scheme.

“I call it, the ah… Less for More plan.” 

“And what in the fuck does this plan include, huh?” 

“I’m getting there, Connor. Now… that meeting we got comin’ up… it’s with your dad’s good friends, right?” 

“Mmhm.” 

“And we have to sell them our Schlattcoin operating system for use in international commerce and accounting. So… I propose… we just give ‘em less for more!” 

“What’re you gettin’ at, man?” 

“Our software is capable of running about half of the data that Daire needs in order to complete his total transactions, right? What I’m sayin’ is that we gotta underdeliver and charge a lot more, but by the time he figures it out, have enough to manage both the competition AND pay back the big man if we need to. We’ll use the saved up money to fix the system and optimize it, that way, we can just manipulate them into thinkin’ we had a little problem with the software.”

“Wait wait wait, explain this again. You wanna rip off one of my dad’s closest business partner friends that happens to own HALF OF FUCKING ORLANDO?! Are you out of your mind, Schlatt?!” 

“It’s not technically rippin’ ‘em off! We’re playin’ ‘em a bit, but that’s not the same!” 

“Well, uh… I think it’s actually a pretty good—-“

“Keep your mouth shut, Ty. Schlatt doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about right now.” 

“Why, for fuck’s sake, are you so opposed to everything I suggest?!” 

“This is not a suggestion, man! This is a scheme! You’re planning to scam Rob fuckin’ Daire out of 3 to 5 MILLION dollars! You don’t know him like I do, he’s a businessman! He’d do anything for his company, and, like all rich people, he loves his MONEY!” 

“...Fine. But answer this, Connor. How are we gonna get enough funds to keep this thing goin’ if we don’t take some shortcuts? How do you think we’re gonna do if we release our app to the public and it doesn’t get used? We’re gonna go bankrupt, like we were afraid of from the start. We NEED this. The company needs this. And I think… y’know, I think I’m willin’ to do what it takes to get us on our feet, whatever it takes. Are you?” 

Silence followed. The argument went rapid fire, like every single one that came before, and then the fire was extinguished as Schlatt and Connor exchanged a heavy look. The implications of the wavering glance solidified everything that needed to be said, and it was Connor’s turn to hunt for the bottle and take a deep swig. He had lowered himself onto the ground and looked up at his partner, cradling the black glass with a stray hand, and nodded. 

They were going to scam a giant of a company out of 5 million dollars. Overprice... underdeliver. Less for more, and they’d better pray to God that Daire never found out.

This was the second time they broke the law. It wouldn’t be the last. 

—

“Thank you, Rob. Seriously,” Schlatt grinned excitedly, trying in vain to grip the other man’s huge fingers as they shook hands. “Schlatt and Co. won’t let you down.” 

“It had better not!” The giant bellowed with laughter again, a pen that looked comically small hanging loosely within his grip, and he leaned down slightly over the table to sign the contract. 

His associates were spread out over the room, talking animatedly with Connor and Ty, chuckling at the talk of figures and investments. Schlatt has finished the presentation and was met with a startlingly loud and strangely unprofessional roar of applause, and he took a little flustered bow as a light smile danced over his face. He had kept the estimated earnings purposefully vague and wowed them with talk of an inspiring international presence, shiftily promising a system powerful enough to move hundreds of thousands of dollars in cryptocurrency. 

The Less for More plan had worked, he thought happily, giving a seedy-eyed grin to his partner who looked back at him with an unreadable expression. Suddenly, the waving of a paper to his right distracted him, and he was greeted by a crisp white contract with a rigid red signature lining the bottom. His eyes leapt open as he saw the amount, and his heart nearly burst out of his chest as he let out a strangled gasp.

“Five million dollars, Mr. Schlatt. As promised.” Rob smiled sharply, eyes glittering. “You’d better hope your system works.”


	6. Morse Code

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finally, some excitement

Two months had passed since the Less for More plan was first put into effect. The plane had sputtered its way home, coughing like an old hag as it touched down on the rough asphalt, and the three men had walked wobbly-legged back to a normal yellow taxi. It was a far cry from the wealth that had come to stun them at their last landing, but Schlatt had practically kissed the worn leather upholstery, relieved in a strange way to be back home. 

The first order of business, Connor had announced as soon as the three collapsed onto the floor of the office, would be to gear the software up as good as possible for Daire, and to release it to the public. Ted swung by the next day, formally introducing himself to Ty and informally giving the kid an endearing ride on his broad shoulders. He had set up at the faux wood desk in the central area of the space, laughing and chattering with the men as he put up a huge painting of Madonna and threw paper balls at Schlatt. His bookkeeping was phenomenal, and Connor watched over his shoulder in awe at the speed of the other man’s calculations. 

Daire emailed them a week later thanking them for the software and wishing them health and wealth and everything in between. Schlatt had stared at it blankly before trashing it and closing his laptop, taking a violent sip of his soda and crushing it anxiously. 

Connor continued to drive Schlatt to work from his apartment every day, and gradually, the space started to get nicer. The piles of dirty clothes left in and around the hamper disappeared with the help of a new washer and dryer, and a white bookshelf and matching desk occupied the corner of his room, contaminating it with their “new-furniture smell”. Paperwork was stacked haphazardly on every surface, and once a week, Connor would scream at his partner about the importance of getting it done before frustratedly throwing it in his car to work on later. 

Ty ditched his old pink hoodie two weeks later, replacing the stained, grimy cloth with a brand new pastel pink suit, which earned him incredulous cheers when he walked into the office with it on. Ted had given him a playful, envious high five, going on a wistful rant about his life working in a broker’s firm as a “young boy”, and Ty tuned him out as he sat down at his new desk. 

Connor checked and did cleanup every day to make sure that the software was working for Daire, nervous and determined to make sure that no trace of their shady business was present. Ted did nonchalant tax write-ups in the blink of an eye, filing each on alphabetically before dropping them on the brunette’s desk, pairing his swift movements with a confident wink. Schlatt and Ty traveled out to business meetings together, getting the crowd happy with feel-good seminars about changing the world. 

About a month in, they gathered together around Connor’s computer to anxiously watch the Schlattcoin Official App go live. After continuous marketing schemes led by the charismatic Wilbur Soot, who would stay up until the short hours of the morning on video call with the guys, a buzz began to build about the product. They crowded nervously together, silent as their software was released into the world… and cheered when the first installment happened only moments later. 

The four men’s bank accounts started to grow by the day, more and more money pouring into their savings. At first, it was a small trickle, the lone person here and there sending money to relatives in distant countries, but after a time, the trickle turned into a racing river. Schlatt had to take deep, calming breaths after he saw the first person using it to buy a meal at a nearby restaurant, and only weeks later, it had graduated to becoming somewhat normal. It didn’t even faze him anymore. Even in his dreams, he saw the glowing yellow of the app. 

“Hey, do you take Schlattcoin?” 

“Just pay me back through Schlattcoin, man, don’t worry.” 

“We’re, ah, gonna start accepting Schlattcoin deposits.” 

It was music to his ears. 

At first, earnings were a bit slow, but when they celebrated their two month opening with a catered cake and cheap plastic confetti, Schlatt was richer than he’d ever been in his life. Nowhere close to being genuinely wealthy, but the sentiment was strong and united as he had proposed a toast to the very beginning of the journey. 

He had walked over to the window, ignoring the drunk yelling behind him, slurred speeches about outdated video games and the hot receptionist that worked downstairs. It was a cool day, a crisp autumn that seemed to stretch its fingers through the frosted window, and Schlatt pressed his forehead to the cold glass. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath as his hands spread over the surface. 

Schlatt had made it. He was successful, owner of a steadily running company, able to take its licks and keep kicking. He had built it up from the ground into everything he had wanted it to be. …So why did he still want more..? 

—

Daire stretched in his office chair, huge hands scraping the wall behind him as he let out a deafening yawn. The computer in front of him, a slick, powerful machine that glared at the world under the shine of the fluorescent lights that dotted the ceiling. The Schlattcoin venture had gone well so far, he thought, bobbing his head in satisfaction at the numbers that flashed over the screen as he straightened up against the backrest. It was merely a small sum of money that was being moved by the software, around eight hundred thousand dollars a month, but the amateur-ish design held up surprisingly well.

The numbers flashed on the screen in rapid-fire, eights and zeros and twos that seemed to wink at Daire. The rest of the room was dark, dim as the evening light waned and reflected off of the clear bottle of whiskey that sat on his desk like an old friend. He had been… a bit hard on his luck recently with his business, and the little yellow cryptocurrency had put a nice trickle of extra cash into his pocket. He gave the computer a content sigh before closing it with one hand, startled a bit when the phone started to ring.

It cried out once, a grating noise that hit Daire’s ears before he had time to react. A second one, louder and—-

“... Hello?”

A gruff, hoarse voice. It was dotted with an air of grave urgency and the last whispers of adrenaline. “Hey, Mister Daire. We got the man.” 

The giant yawned underneath a flat palm, and as the sun hit his eyes, they flashed once. “Ah, how nice of you, Mr. Smith. And you performed clean-up like I asked?” 

“Sure did. They’re uh… not gonna hurt him, are they?”

“Of course not, don’t you worry about that. Thank you very much. You’re a valuable employee.” 

There was a short silence, and the mystery man’s newfound hesitation oozed from it. “A… about that, Mister Daire. I was thinkin’, uh… “

“What were you thinking, Mr. Smith? You know your opinion is always regarded in the highest degree here.” The giant responded, fingers splaying out over the desk as he traced circles in the wood. His face was smooth, friendly and warm, and his tone carried over the wired phone. 

The other man sounded relieved. “Well… I don’t think I’m really cut out for this business, if I’m bein’ honest, sir. The stuff that they’re tellin’ me to do… well, I’ve never done anything like it before and… it’s against the law, Mister Daire. Do you know the kinda stuff they’re doin’ down on the streets?” 

A taken aback pause from the man behind the desk. “Inform me.” 

“W-Well, sir, they’re robbing people out there! They’re killing people just for money, sayin’ that they owe them or somethin’! I mean, I ain’t ever had to watch a guy get shot over a few bucks, but your operatives are doin’ whatever they want!” 

Daire pauses, shuffled some papers, gritted his teeth angrily. His huge hand was curled around the phone with an iron grip, voice steady as he cleared his throat and spoke. “I had no idea what they got up to. Thank you very much for letting me know, Mr. Smith. I encourage you to let me contact the police about this.”

“Whatever you gotta do, boss.” The other man responded confidently, the hum of traffic and indignant cries of honking cars echoing from his side of the line and into Daire’s ears. “And uh… what do I do about my job, now?” 

“Just sit tight. You’ll hear from me.” 

The click of the phone as it hit the black plastic receiver sounded once, cut off as it was brought back up again. The buttons let out their low, sharp beeps as Daire’s finger collided with their surface, and the dial tone started soon after. Outside, the sun sank behind the ocean line, plunging the room into dark, swimming shadow. 

A new man picked up the phone. Nothing but light breathing echoed on the other side of the line. 

“Hello.” 

Silence.

“I’ve got a job for you.” Daire’s voice grew hard, cold as ice and firmly nonchalant. “Some people in the company make it difficult for me to continue my job, if you know what I’m saying. He’s soft as putty, and he’s gonna squeal like a fuckin’ stuck pig if he ever sees anything bad. His name is Tony L. Smith, he’s got a wife and two daughters. You don’t need to mess with the family if you don’t want to, but I want him gone. Let’s say… 12 PM tomorrow he has a little accident in the water. Wandered too close.” 

The other man’s breathing grew deeper, and suddenly, a sharp tapping noise started from the other side of the phone. Click. Click. Click click click. 

It was Morse code. Daire produced a small notepad and wrote the letters down one by one. ’O-K,’ it started simply, each click echoing as if the man was in a large, empty room. ‘1-2 P-M.’

“That’s the spirit. Thank you.” The giant yawned under his breath and moved to put the phone back down, but there was a frantic tap over the other line, and he moved the receiver slowly back to his face. “...What is it?”

Click. Click click click. Click.

‘C-H-E-C-K M-R. S-C-H-L-A-T-T.’

Daire’s eyes widened, and he moved swiftly back to his computer, fingers flying over the keyboard as he pulled up the quarter report. Everything seemed to be in order, numbers slowly climbing and falling, the line graph tucked away at the corner of the screen moving up and down like an ebbing tide. He stared at the glowing white of the spreadsheet again and spoke. 

“What do you mean? Everything is going accordingly.” Came the insistent response, just the slightest bit irritated at the strange request. “Jonathan Schlatt is a friend of my godson’s, they run a tight ship together.” 

There was a pause, then the familiar tapping resumed, sounding a bit frustrated, if that was even possible. Click. Click. 

‘S-O-F-T-W-A-R-E. C-H-E-C-K S-T-A-T-S.’

Daire paused for a second, then slowly opened the Schlattcoin software server, a statistics tab hidden away on the right side of the interface. A drop-down menu appeared in a flash, a red bar chart glimmering on the bright screen, and the giant raked his eyes over the information. All of the bars were set high, bandwidth and currency translation and individual value, but one of them was sitting forlornly at the bottom, forgotten and seemingly left that way purposefully. It was the transfer capabilities bar, the one responsible for moving money from physical cash into cryptocurrency. 

A sense of slow-bleeding anger settled into Daire’s head, disbelief gnawing at his stomach. It was possible that the two charming young businessmen had simply forgotten to up the moving capacity for the software, right? It couldn’t have been purposeful, he thought rigidly, but when he delved into the code, he saw to his horror that the only way to change it from 100 percent to barely 25 was through putting in a manual command. Someone had actually gone through the app and made sure Daire didn’t get his money’s worth, and that almost every cent from the last month was going into Schlatt and Co’s bank account. The man’s huge hands curled into furious fists. 

“How did you find this?!” He bellowed, trying to keep his voice down slightly as he spat into the receiver. A pause sounded before the tapping started up again. 

‘W-O-R-T-H G-O-I-N-G D-O-W-N.’ 

The income page for Daire Software was open in a flash, displaying a shameful, steadily declining stream of money that came in from the Schlatt and Co. app. Daire Software was using the app to send huge amounts of money to their beneficiaries in Malaysia and China, and when he pulled up the sent sum versus the received sum, he noticed that not all of the cash went through. 

Daire’s hands balled into fists as he gripped the phone tightly. “Son of a bitch,” he spat, face growing red with anger. “My own fuckin’ godson and his piece of shit partner. How dare they rip me off and think in their small brains that I won’t find out eventually!”

Fuming, he stood up sharply, hearing the back of his soft rolling chair hit the wall with a thud as he started pacing back and forth in front of the desk. “You know what I bet it was? That stupid, slick-talking CEO. He’s smarter than he looks. There’s no way I could kill Corduroy’s boy… but I can shut down their entire operation if I get the short one. Schlatt. That’s his name, you get me?” 

Click click. The tapping was slow this time, deliberate, almost inquisitive. 

‘H-I-T ?’ 

“Do what you do best.” Daire growled, arms folded over his chest, lips turned up in a small, twisted smile. “He fucked with me. Poor guy… he doesn’t know what he’s in for.” 

‘W-H-E-R-E ?’

“Him and his bootlicking servant, Connor, have set up shop on Wall Street. Them and their little… kid. Ty. Didn’t get a last name on him, but he doesn’t matter now.”

There was a pause, long and drawn out, silently smoldering as the sun sank into the ocean, and Daire’s catlike eyes narrowed. 

“His full name is Jonathan Schlatt. One week from now, he has a little accident. I trust you. Goodbye.” 

The click of the phone was the only thing that echoed through the room. 

—

“CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!” The two yelled, staring at Ted with huge eyes, watching as the brunette threw back his third beer. The man slammed the cup down onto the counter, wobbled for a bit, then let out a huge belch that seemed to shake the table. 

“Jesus Christ, Ted!” Schlatt exclaimed disgustedly, voice high pitched as it drowned out the music that boomed through the bar. “Save your fuckin’ liver!” 

“And save my wallet!” Connor shouted back, a hint of irritation on his otherwise huge grin. “When I offered to pay for you two, I didn’t realize that Ted had a bottomless stomach!” 

The bar was big, lively and packed to the brim with people, laughter and bad karaoke breezing through the sharp air. It smelled like alcohol and pastries, and even from their special, secluded booth seat, the trio could hear every crass argument and lame pick-up attempt. Loud pop music was playing, adding to the already deafening chatter. A small rum cake was sitting on the chiseled wood of the table, half-eaten with frosting-covered spoons discarded near it, and tall empty beer mugs were lined up in front of Ted’s seat like a badge of dishonor. 

“Alright alright, let’s get real for a moment,” he announced, words slightly slurred as he spread his hands over the oak surface. He turned to look first at Schlatt, who leaned back in his seat lazily, then Connor, whose bright Hawaiian shirt glared garishly at him, and grinned. “First time I met you guys… wasn’t great, huh?” 

“You can say that again, man.” Connor replied, smiling as he traced a finger around the rim of his cup. 

Schlatt chuckled, shooting a warm glance in the brunette’s direction. “What, you really thought we were gonna turn you in, ah?”

“Hell yeah!” Ted insisted, drawing a hearty laugh from the two men sitting in front of him. “My hands were all shaky, I was really about to pull out the whole ‘please, I have a family’ card!”

“Wouldn’t have worked on Connor,” Schlatt drawled, pointing a lighthearted, accusing finger towards his partner. “This motherfucker’s ruthless.” 

“Very funny,” was the only response that his partner gave, flat and tinged with a small giggle. 

Ted raised his empty beer cup, stopped, then handed out the other two to the men sitting next to him, clearing his throat professionally. “I just wanted to say… thanks for hiring me, guys. Means a lot to finally be rich.”

“That’s right, man!” Schlatt stumbled a bit as he swiftly got up on the seat, ignoring Connor’s cries of protest. From that height, he could see the whole bar, sprawled out below him like a city, the dark brown wood walls and dim lighting. His feet were planted firmly on the plush bottom, and he raised the empty mug with an ecstatic whoop. 

“WE’RE FUCKIN’ RICH!!” 

It didn’t take the three long to get kicked out. 

—

“My car’s parked up the road,” Ted replied tiredly, giving his employers a small smile. “Sure you two don’t need a ride?” 

“We know the way back from here,” Connor assured the other man, shaking his hand firmly. “Thanks though. Don’t want you to go too far out of your way.” 

The stars twinkled above them lightly, faint music echoing out of the bar behind them. The road stretched out in both directions, lit by buzzing street lights that shone the faintest bit of brightness down onto the cracked asphalt. A steady stream of people flowed out of the bar, couples chatting with each other, friends drunkenly singing old 2000s pop songs. Cars were parked up and down the street, and the New York Harbor glittered brilliantly in the distance as the moonlight bounced off of its rocky waters. 

“See you tomorrow, then.” Ted replied, tucking his brown coat underneath his jacket and giving the two men a faint grin. “8 O’clock sharp. Those records can’t keep themselves.” 

Schlatt watched as the tall man walked up the street to his small gray hummer and got in, closing the door behind him. The car peeled out of its spot, blew spiraling exhaust in their direction, and headed up the road, rear lights getting smaller and smaller. Finally, he turned the corner and disappeared into the night. 

It was strangely quiet now, and Schlatt turned back to Connor with a small, light sigh. 

“Let’s get going,” the brunette announced, steering his friend out of the road and towards the sidewalk, listening to the poignant tapping of their shoes against concrete. It was a beautiful night, a half moon staring down at them from its spot in the sky, and Connor let the breeze hit his face gently as they made their way down the road. 

Schlatt stared at the ground, hands in his suit pockets, fingers fiddling with the loose threads that had sprung up inside the cloth. It was peaceful, quiet, and yet he couldn’t get the gnawing thoughts out of his head. He had always been a greedy person, but it had never been to this extent before. He was rich, richer than ever, yet he still didn’t feel like it was enough. Over half of his life was spent in squalor, hopping from job to job and praying he didn’t get fired just so he could afford rent. He was 25 now, not a young, optimistic upstart, and he felt like time was slipping away through his fingers. 

The business needed to grow bigger. It was at a good place right now, being used everywhere within the city, but it needed to expand, first to the rest of the country and then to the world. His dream was to see Schlattcoin everywhere, his grinning face on billboards and signs, urging people all over the globe to try his amazing new product. He didn’t have enough money yet, enough fame, and the need to be seen burned a hole through his stomach. Schlatt hadn’t gotten his wish yet. He wasn’t somebody yet.

He yawned, blinked once, and almost jumped out of his skin when Connor spoke. 

“Schlatt. Don’t look now, but I think the guy on that motorcycle is following us.” 

Almost immediately, the dark-eyed man whirled around, nearly stumbling as he saw the faint outline of a motorbike in the distance. They had walked farther than he thought, maybe ten minutes away from the apartment, and the streetlights here were dim, flickering every now and then. The air seemed colder somehow. 

“You idiot!” Connor hissed angrily, grabbing Schlatt by the collar and dragging him farther along the sidewalk, looking left and right frantically for any sign of another person. “Now they know that we saw them!” 

“Well, shit! You tell me not to look, what do you expect me to do?!” Schlatt cried indignantly, trying to keep up with his partner as they sped up, nearly jogging now. The dark-haired man turned to glance backwards, and his heart nearly exploded out of his chest when he saw the motorcycle had halved the distance between them. A strangled cry escaped from his throat. “Connor!” 

A swift look back, a panicked mutter. “Shit, I hear you. Keep walkin’, we’ll take a left out to the wharf when I say. There’s usually ships and stuff out there, so the sailors can—-“ 

Suddenly, the motorcycle revved it’s engine behind us and barreled forward, charging down the street at breakneck speed. The pair’s eyes grew wide as they broke into a sprint, feet flying over the concrete as they sucked in huge breaths of air. Schlatt’s heart pounded in his ears as his legs churned underneath him, still wobbly with alcohol and adrenaline as they sped towards the rapidly approaching wharf. He whirled his head around to give a panicked glance at their attacker and let out a horrified shout when he saw a pistol clutched in the man’s hand. 

“THIS WAY!” Connor yelled, skidding into an alley to their left, shoes thudding against the concrete, wind howling violently in his ears. Schlatt’s lungs burned in his chest, and he gasped for air, barreling towards the side street, heart racing painfully. 

BANG! The first shot went off, whizzing past Schlatt’s ear, screaming as it plunged into the brick of a nearby building. He let out a terrified yelp as his hearing became fuzzy, a screeching ringing echoing in his head. The man on the motorcycle cursed furiously as the pair disappeared from the main road, leaping off of his motorcycle and rushing into the tight space behind them.

“Connor..!” Schlatt shouted desperately, racing down the inclined asphalt, another scream ripping its way out of his throat, “Connor!!” 

BANG! Another shot arched its way through the air, slamming into a dumpster, echoing through the space with a huge metallic clang. Schlatt could see the opening of the alley approaching, the exit to the wharf, and he urged himself to go forward, eyes watering and lungs burning. Connor was sprinting ahead of him, glancing back in terror every few seconds, and screamed something unintelligible back at his partner. 

The man behind them was advancing steadily, firing another shot into the air and narrowly missing the horrified dark-haired man as he ran for his life. Boxes and dumpsters whizzed by them in a blur, and the clatter of rocks and spray of loose gravel onto their calves spurred them forward. Connor reached the opening of the alley first and made a sharp right, disappearing from view. 

“WAIT..!!” Schlatt cried, voice hoarse and laced with terror, and his head swam with fear when he realized he couldn’t see his partner anymore. He stumbled roughly, regained his balance, and burst out of the side street, gasping for air. 

Whipping his head around, he searched, panicked, for the brunette, brushing his eyes up and down the wharf frantically. No ships were in sight, the harbor was dark save for the twinkle of lights from across the water, and he felt an unsettling horror explode into his stomach as he saw the man step out from the shadows of the alley. 

He was standing stock-still, facing towards Schlatt, arm extended with the pistol’s black barrel aimed forwards. Schlatt felt his knees go weak, and he let out a shaky breath as a cold sweat broke out over his body. 

His arms seemed to raise into the air on their own, hands trembling violently. “Please… if it’s my money you want, just take it. Please, don’t shoot me.”

There was no response from the man, who was as still as ever. He had a medium build, maybe 6’0 with lean features, face obscured behind a dark motorcycle helmet. He took a step forward, and Schlatt took one back. 

“T-There are… there’ll be people that’ll miss me if I’m gone,” he stammered hoarsely, throat opening and closing, fear snaking it’s way along his body as he glanced back at the black water. “The p-police’ll find you in no time, man. Please… please don’t shoot.” 

There was a short silence before the man spoke. “Stay where you are. Don’t fucking move.” 

“Oh god,” The dark-eyed man breathed, looking left and right frantically, praying for any chance of living. The harbor was still and quiet, glaring down at him as if waiting for the end to come. 

The man approached him, boots thudding against the bricked ground, sending spikes of terror into Schlatt’s heart. His hands were still raised above his head, arms burning and fingers shaking, and he watched with huge, red eyes as the man looked him up and down. 

“So you’re the guy, huh?” His voice was raspy and quiet, too calm for a person that was about to commit murder. “Thought you’d be bigger, little man.” 

He paused for a second, the grip on his gun never letting up. In the distance, the bay lights flashed.

“Sorry about this. Not my choice.” Came the nonchalant continuation, causing Schlatt to screw his eyes shut in horrific anticipation. The cold steel nudged into his forehead, and he let out a choked gasp, body rigid with paralyzing fear. The man took off his helmet, features sharp and angular as they blurred into each other. He was going to die here, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Please, God, he thought desperately. I can’t die now! I’ve barely started living!

“This might sound cliche, but it’s just business, you know?” The man responded, a bit of an edge in his voice. He switched the safety off with a click. “Jonathan, right? I've got advice for you. Never screw over Daire.” 

Suddenly, there was a loud shout from behind them, and as Schlatt’s eyes flew open, he saw Connor swing down a huge metal pipe swiftly onto the man’s head. Hands flying up to his face, he let out a shattering scream and stumbled sideways, the sound of skull meeting metal still echoing through the wharf. Without thinking, Schlatt lunged forward, tackling his attacker to the ground, fumbling for the gun with both hands. 

The bricked ground was cold under his palms as he wrestled with the man, pain reverberating through his body as he was kicked in the jaw, neck snapping sideways. Scrambling forward, he hooked his arm around the other’s torso, letting out an agonizing shout when the gun went off inches away from his ear. Suddenly, he was flipped over, the attacker’s steel fingers wrapped around his neck, one hand on his opponent and one hand on the gun. Schlatt let out a ragged gasp, clawing at the man, black spots beginning to appear in the corner of his eyes. 

“Schlatt..!” Connor shouted, rushing forward, legs pounding the pavement. He reached out and threw his arms around the attacker’s chest, dragging him upwards and stumbling slightly back as he was elbowed sharply in the face.

Schlatt was beginning to lose consciousness, fighting the urge to close his eyes, and his fingers scrabbled uselessly at nothing. It was cold now, so cold, and it bled into his body from his head as it traveled downwards. Suddenly, he felt a brush of metal against his hand, and his eyelids flew open, grip closing around the gun as he attempted to wrestle it away, and—-

BANG! 

The man’s blue eyes grew wide as he looked down at his chest. A puddle of dark blood spread slowly through his jacket, and his lips parted as he went limp. Letting out a last ragged breath, he slumped over and out of Connor’s grip, sinking facedown onto the ground. 

The assassin was dead. 

The wharf was quiet again. Schlatt looked at Connor with huge eyes, breathing heavy, and across the water, the city lights almost seemed to wink.


	7. The Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> schlatt’s in too deep now :(

“The entire firm ran out the door looking for me before they called the cops!” 

“No!”

“Yes! Imagine twenty or so huge guys in brand new, starched suits gasping for air on the side of the street. Of course, by that time I was already across the road, up near Maple and Crest, and I had to haul ass back home to pack up and leave.” Ted responded haughtily, stretching lazily, grinning as he spoke with the brunette kid across the room. It was a gray, peaceful day outside, and a soft leather of rain pelted the window with gentle taps. 

The office was quiet save for the pair’s conversation, a day for lounging around and doing nothing but drinking hot chocolate and playing board games. They had already set up Monopoly earlier that morning, played halfway through a game before accusing each other of cheating, and discarded it good-naturedly. Half-drunken cups of coffee lay in front of Ted’s desk, swept to the side and piled up outside of his mini trashcan. Without Connor present, there was nobody to flatly tell them to clean up their mess, and since Schlatt was missing, there wasn’t anybody to add to it. 

“How… how d’you do that kinda thing? Just disappear without the cops gettin’ on your ass?” Ty asked quizzically, only half-pretending to work at his desk. Papers were strewn over the faux wood surface, checks and catalogues and spam mail, and he brushed them aside haphazardly to set his mug down. 

Ted narrowed his eyes. “Language, kid. It’s simple, actually, just never make ties with anyone, ever. And if you do… make sure to tell them, the trustworthy ones at least, what happened so they don’t give the police any leads. It’s an art form, sort of…” 

“Right,” Ty scoffed, giving the other man an endearing yet tight-lipped smile. “Runnin’ away from the cops after you get caught a buncha times is fine art.” 

“Stuff it, kid,” Ted snapped, and glanced at the barely functional clock on the wall. It was square shaped, a cheap thrift store find, but it still displayed at least the hour correctly. He furrowed his brows, propped his feet up on the desk, and looked pointedly at Ty. “It’s three hours after opening. Where the hell are Schlatt and Connor?” 

“Beats me,” Came the response, the slightest bit bitter as it continued. “Probably sleepin’ off hangovers from your guys’ celebration.” 

Ted shook his head, then glanced out of the window at the gray city that stood stoic below them. “Couldn’t be. I was miles drunker than either of them. Probably just forgot to—-“ 

Suddenly, the door opened slowly, hitting against the wall with a dull thud, and the two disheveled men stepped through. Schlatt’s eyes were droopy, dark bags sitting stoically underneath them, and his hair flowed wildly behind him. To his right, Connor had his arms folded across his chest frustratedly, ineffectively trying not to yawn as his eyes darted around the room. Ted raised an eyebrow at the two, leaning back in his chair to survey their appearances. 

“Well, speak of the devil, huh?” He grinned, throwing his arms open. “You two look like shit.” 

The pair glanced at each other jumpily, and gave the room a quick once over. 

“Shut up, Ted,” came the slightly hoarse response, Connor’s words quiet as he stepped gingerly towards the office rooms. “And… and clean up in here.” 

“Can do, boss.”

Schlatt shuffled towards his desk, stumbling slightly from exhaustion and shooting a hand out to prop himself up against a nearby doorframe. His eyes swam slightly, the edges of his vision a murky gray, and he felt a bit nauseous as the concealed sunlight assaulted his eyes. Suddenly, he noticed a sharp tug on his sleeve, and he whirled around with a paranoid gasp. 

“Woah,” Ty exclaimed indignantly, staring up at his employer with a sideways glare. His hands were up in surrender, and he brought them down to fold pointedly across his chest. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“I don’t… I don’t know what you’re gettin’ at, kid.” Schlatt responded haughtily, but he could barely hide the edging anxiousness behind his sharp voice. “Go mind your business and get back to work, it’s what I’m payin’ you for, ah?” 

Ty narrowed his eyes irritatedly. “I’m not gettin’ paid in full, remember? You still owe me, Mister Schlatt. So at least tell me why you guys look like you’ve been up for four days straight, alright? I deserve t’know.” 

“You don’t deserve shit,” The dark-eyed man replied coarsely, but it was weak and half-hearted and he knew it. Sighing, he ran a trembling hand over his face and peered around the corner of his office, ignoring the insistent boy that was planted in front of him. “Connor!” 

A pause, then a quiet call back. “What?” 

“C’mere.” 

There was another short bout of silence, and then the brunette shuffled reluctantly out of his room, closing the door roughly behind him as he made his way over to his partner’s office. Ted barely looked up from his work, humming a lively tune under his breath, a half-smile decorating his flushed face. The trio turned to give him a cautious glance, then looked at each other, two faces exhausted, one inquisitive. Connor sighed and wrapped his fingers around the cool door handle, yanking it closed with a rough tug. 

They were alone in the soundproof room now, and Schlatt started pacing frantically, his partner collapsing into the office chair behind a huge dark brown desk. The rain was coming down harder now, drops of anguish that lapped at the windows with an unrelenting fury, and as the words poured out of Schlatt’s mouth, they too were laced with hysteric peaks. 

“Listen, Ty. If we tell you this right now, you have to promise not to tell anyone ANYTHING. You got it? Not Ted, not your neighbor, ANYONE.” 

“Y-Yeah, I got it,” the boy stammered quizzically, eyes darting from one man to the other as he rubbed the nape of his neck with a sheepish motion. “I-I just don’t get—“ 

“And we’re only tellin’ you this because you were here from the start and we know you wouldn’t fuck us over, okay? You wouldn’t fuck us over, would you?” 

“No way,” Ty exclaimed insistently, a firm tone wrapping around his words. There was an expectant silence, and he looked back and forth between the exhausted men in front of him. “Well what is it, huh?” 

Schlatt glanced at Connor, eyes flashing as they locked into his partner’s. He tugged at his suit collar, took a swig of water out of the crumpled plastic bottle on his desk, and tried in vain to swallow past the lump in his throat. Shoving his slightly shaking hands in his pockets, his gaze settled onto the ground, studying the pattern of the carpet in a desperate attempt to distract himself. 

“Listen, Ty…” His mouth ran dry, and his words sounded clipped and strangled. “I might’ve killed someone last night.”

—

“Holy shit,” Connor had breathed, seconds after the shot made his ears ring and his eyes blur. He looked down slowly, feeling the wet warmth of spattered blood on his stomach, and he brushed his fingers over the stain, recoiling when they pulled away covered in the scarlet liquid. “Holy shit.” 

Schlatt stared wide-eyed at the motionless man next to him, then at the hot metal of the gun in his hand, smoke rushing out of the barrel and curling into the night air. He couldn’t find his voice, throat opening and closing weakly, and he instead scrambled backwards, palms thudding against the cold brick as the gun clattered away. The wharf was dark, and the lights across the bay stared on with curious interest. 

“What did you do?!” Connor cried, lunging forward and yanking Schlatt onto his feet in one swift motion. They stumbled slightly to the side, panic-induced violence still heavy in the air, and they clutched onto the front of each other’s shirts like a life raft. “What the fuck did you do?!” 

“I didn’t mean to! I swear to god I didn’t mean to..!” Schlatt shouted back, voice hoarse as he tried desperately to look at anything but the furious face of his friend and the corpse next to them. “I-I was losin’ air and I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t think and I was tryin’ to get the gun away and—-“

“Oh my god…” Connor moaned, shoving the dark-eyed man back and burying his head in his hands, “Oh my god Schlatt! We’re gonna go to fuckin’ jail!” 

Schlatt held his hands up frantically, taking a step forward in a vain attempt to console his friend. The smell of blood and smoke was rife in the air, and he gagged once before speaking. “Now listen! Listen t’me, Connor. We need to have a… a level-headed discussion about this, alright?”

“What’s there to discuss, man?!” The brunette yelled, voice breaking explosively as he threw his arms up into the air. “We’re both gonna rot in jail, you and me, and when I get shanked in the showers I’m gonna haunt you for the rest of your fuckin’ life, you no-good lazy fuck!” 

“We don’t even know if he’s dead yet!” Schlatt raised his voice defensively, arms shooting out to shove the other man backwards. They strode forwards and then back, a dangerous tango between two killers, imperfect and graceful in its panic. 

Connor’s eyes grew wide as they both settled their stares on the hitman lying facedown on the bricked ground. They gazed wordlessly at the body, then at each other, and the wind wrapped around both of them like a cold blanket. 

“Go check,” the brunette whispered, nudging his partner roughly with a bloodied hand. 

“Hey, how the fuck am I supposed to check somethin’ like that?!” Schlatt hissed, keeping his voice down on the off-chance that their violent friend was conscious and able to comprehend anything that they were saying. His words were met with an angry and incredulous look. 

“I-I don’t know! Check his pulse!” 

Schlatt inched forward cautiously, arm held out in front of him like a shield, and as he grew closer to the assassin, his breath came in shorter and shorter gasps. The hitman was lying motionless, blood slowly pooling from the hole in his chest, cargo jacket soaked with the dark liquid. His motorcycle helmet was discarded haphazardly nearby, and as the dark-haired man leaned down slowly to grab his arm, the light bounced off of it coyly. 

The assassin’s skin was pale and cold, and Schlatt extended two fingers slowly, pressing it to his exposed wrist, careful to work around the thick sheen of blood that was leaking through the sleeve. There wasn’t even the faintest hum of life, and a shiver ran over the businessman’s spine, making him step back definitively. 

“Well…” he started carefully, “I didn’t feel anything, but—-“

“Oh my god,” Connor started up again, pacing back and forth anxiously, shoes thudding on the ground. His face was flushed and panicked, and he ran his bloodstained hand over it, wincing when he noticed the scarlet trail that was left behind. 

“Remember, level-headed thinkin’, man,” Schlatt urged, head starting to clear as if he was seeing through a cloudy day for the first time. He felt himself growing calmer, and the cold night air washed over him like a bath, making him grit his teeth in an attempt to fight off the wind.

Connor stopped in his tracks, face grave, voice barely above a whisper. “Schlatt. You know what we have to do. ...We HAVE to call the police.” 

A firm reply. “No way.” 

“I’ve seen it before, in those cop shows! If you turn yourself in, you get a lighter sentence! I’m not trying to explain to my dad why I’m gonna be locked up for fifteen years without possibility of parole!” Connor exclaimed insistently. “Like, ‘Oh hey dad, I screwed over your closest business partner and got a fuckin’ HIT out myself! Anyways, can you foot the bail bill?’”

“Oh yeah, call the police, Connor!” Schlatt mocked, gesturing explosively towards the silent, dark town behind them. “Call the police! And while you’re at it, tell ‘em about the company, too! Let ‘em know about the taxes! Explain to ‘em how we got the HIT out on us in the first place, that’s sure to reduce our sentence!” 

Lunging forward, Connor’s arms shot out like a bolt of lightning, knocking his partner back. The other man stumbled, eyes wide, and fell back onto the cold, rough ground. “Both of those things were YOUR fuckin’ ideas, Schlatt. YOURS! And now you got me roped up into this mess and I have to deal with a dead guy and an entire multi billion dollar business on my ass!” He spat venomously, seething, face growing red and fingers curling into fists.

Schlatt eyed the flushed, scraped knuckles that were now inches from his face and swallowed past the lump that formed in his throat, leaning back on his palms to avoid any punches that may or may not arrive. Taking a deep breath, he held his hands up in front of him and urged his Connor backwards like he was taming a wild animal. “Okay. Okay, I admit, it’s not lookin’ too good right now.” 

“And you just realized that?” 

A quick interjection. “But! I think arguin’ between each other isn’t helping anything, ah?”

“It’s helping ME a bit.” Connor admitted flatly, taking a step backwards and folding his arms roughly over his chest. Quieter, he sighed before adding, “But what’s your big plan, Einstein? Huh?” 

Schlatt got to his feet quickly, brushing off the front of his rumpled suit, the edges stained with dirt and the occasional splattered droplet of blood. The water lapped softly at the edge of the harbor, and he stole a quick glance at it, then back at the hitman’s lifeless body. “Well… first things first, we can’t call the police to come get this guy.”

“We established that.” Came the flat reply, coupled with an angry wave of the hand. 

Schlatt looked up behind half-lidded eyes, stating the next part of his sentence slowly, cautious not to make his partner explode into another hysterical fit. “So… we have to get rid of him ourselves.”

The color swiftly drained out of Connor’s face. “Wh-What do you mean, drop him in the dumpster or something?”

Lights sparkled across the water, sending streaks of the warm yellow glow bouncing onto the worn brick. Schlatt looked down at his feet first, then up into the cool night sky, and twisted his fingers together anxiously in front of him. Finally, he met Connor’s eyes, cold blue as they bored into him, and spoke. 

“Well… the harbor’s right there.” 

There was a silence, long and drawn out, curling like a single strand of quiet confirmation between the two. Wordlessly, they nodded and eyed the concrete slope that lead down to the black water, then back to the assassin’s pale body. When they tried to pick him up, his skin was cold and clammy under their fingers and he was heavier than either of them had ever imagined, and when blood ran down Connor’s pant leg, he had to turn around to dry heave into the nearest dumpster. Eventually, they struggled over to the wharf, gave each other a single unreadable glance, and heaved him into the ocean, hearing the heavy splash and watching his body sink and disappear from view. 

“Jesus, look at this mess.” Schlatt remarked darkly as they climbed back up the sloped pavement, setting eyes on the stain in the brunette’s khakis and the slick scarlet that covered the ground. “Connor, take off your shirt.” 

“...What?” 

Schlatt’s face heated indignantly. “No homo, man, god!” 

Connor shook his head irritatedly, jamming his hands in his shallow pockets as they approached the bloodstain that coveted the ground. “That’s not what I mean, I was just asking why the hell you needed my shirt. Mopping up this mess?” 

“What else?” 

“Why are you asking ME?” He replied, tired annoyance lacing through his words like a taut thread. “You’re the one with the jacket, that’s basically an extra layer of clothes! Take it off, you’ve got a shirt underneath.” 

Schlatt’s dark eyes grew huge and horrified. “This is a brand new suit, man! It cost 800 bucks!”

“Just take it off!” 

Schlatt was quietly smoldering as he touched the fabric to the pool of blood, recoiling at the fact that it felt just like water and a warm towel in his hands. Spreading the liquid around in big circles, he folded the jacket, concealed the stained section, and scrubbed some more, keeping it up until the crimson was just a bad memory in their tumultuous heads. 

The two gingerly opened a nearby trash bag, shoved the sticky cloth as far inside as it could go, and tied it back up again, leaving it inside the nearest dumpster under a broken chair and an empty burlap sack. The night had become colder now, a slight chill settling into their bones, and as they stood at the mouth of the alleyway that they had sprinted down just an hour earlier, they gripped each other’s hands tightly. 

“We never speak about this to anyone outside the company.” Schlatt spoke firmly, feeling his partner’s slightly trembling fingers in the crook of his palm. “This never happened.” 

“And… and we don’t turn each other in.” Connor murmured, his voice a low hum in the back of his throat. “No one needs to know.” 

“Deal.” 

“Deal.” 

They had walked home in silence, flinching when the occasional car passed by, the cold metal of the murder weapon pressing into Schlatt’s stomach as he tucked it behind his white button-up. His apartment rose up in front of them like a warm beacon, and as Connor stood at the door, he made up one excuse or the other to stay, unwilling to stay by himself in his cold, empty house. 

They let themselves in, one man collapsed on the bed and the other sitting crosslegged in the nearest desk chair, silent yet unable to sleep. Huddling under a blanket, they watched 90’s sitcom reruns until their eyes burned, and at 7 AM, they made the decision to come into work.

This was the first time that blood was on the hands of the founders of Schlatt Co… and it wouldn’t be the last.

—

“You swear on your life not to tell anyone all this?” The dark-eyed man asked sharply, still pacing back and forth on the floor of the office, fingers locked together anxiously. There was a pause as he looked at the kid, who was leaning up against the wall, staring at the floor with an expression that he couldn’t quite read. 

“Well..?”

Ty looked up dismissively. “I’m thinkin’.”

Schlatt glanced at Connor, who had his eyes closed, stress making his suit-clad shoulders tense from his perch on the rolling chair. “W-Well think faster, man!” 

There was another slight pause before Ty straightened up, adjusted his tie, and settled his eyes onto his employer placidly. “Mister Schlatt. Do you remember about two months ago when I threw those rocks at your window?” 

“Yeah, you little shit, the scratches are still there. What does this have to do with—-“

“Remember what you told me?” 

“Is this about the pay again? ‘Cuz I swear to god—-“

Ty shook his head promptly, folding his arms over his chest. His eyes seemed to have a slight glimmer to them, as if prompting the stressed out man across from him to inquire further, and he raised a thin eyebrow. 

“You thought I was homeless, Mister Schlatt.” He started, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes, giving the pair across from him a tight-lipped, plaintive smile. “I’m not.” 

“Oh god, you’ve got parents?!” Came the explosive, concerned response. “We’re gonna get sued so hard for—-“

Ty laughed and extended an arm towards Schlatt, reaching up to rest his hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “No parents, nobody’s gettin’ sued. But… I do live with people. A lot of them, actually. And I think…” his voice grew lower, and he looked left and right cautiously as if making sure his words were unable to be heard. “I think they’ll be able to help you out with your situation, y’know?” 

The boy looked a confident, a hint of pride peppering his voice, and he looked across the room, first at Connor, then at Schlatt. The brunette was sitting up straighter now, curious and slightly worried at the intern’s enigmatic remark, and he folded his hands over the desk. His partner’s eyes were wide and wild as he flashed his piercing stare between the two employees and the floor, and he stammered quietly before speaking.

“I… I don’t know what you’re gettin’ at, kid.” He admitted gruffly, running a hand through his wavy, tangled hair. “What kinda people do you live with?” 

Ty grinned professionally and laced his fingers together. 

“I think it’s time you met my family.” 

—

It was late evening, and Schlatt had the hitman’s gun tucked in his jacket. He didn’t wanna hear it, he already knew it was stupid to carry around the same weapon that had been slick with the blood of the man he killed, but it somehow felt like it belonged to him. He had nearly thrown it in the ocean that night, a last thought that had popped into his mind after the feeling of cold skin faded from memory, but decided against it. Connor, in his frantic panic, had forgotten all about it, and Schlatt was able to carry it back home without making it too obvious.

His first thought was to seal it away, deep underground in a tomb of dirt and rocks, but when he woke up plagued with nightmares of the assassin coming back to finish the job, he started keeping it under his pillow. It felt like protection, however much he hated the sentiment, and with Daire still waiting for an opportunity to pounce, he needed it. 

The cold metal warmed slowly as he cupped his hand around it, palm digging into the barrel. He had nearly gotten nauseous when he thought about having to use it, but what choice did Schlatt really have? It was him or somebody else, and with those two choices, it was obvious that the former mattered more. The sun was warm, harsh wind tangling his black locks of hair, and the hot weather combined with the cool breeze made him sweat and shiver. 

‘They’ll be able to help you out,’ he remembered Ty saying, a concealing grin dancing over his lips, and he hoped fervently once again that traveling out to the East side of town so close to nighttime wasn’t a bad idea. There was something that bugged him about the way that the kid had spoken earlier, like he was mischievously insinuating something. Schlatt had gotten an email from him an hour after they left for work, the page blank except for an address, a winky face, and text reading ‘meet me there!!’. 

Now, the dark-eyed man was beginning to regret following the boy’s instructions. He had nervously cut through alleys and side streets to avoid being out by himself in the Bronx, and his suit was almost like a dangerously flashy beacon as he strode quickly past the worse parts of town. The air was stale and the scent of trash and weed had lingered in the breeze, the concrete under his dress shoes sticky with mysterious substances. 

He had rounded the corner only to be met by a brilliant, sun-baked stretch of industrial warehouses, all dilapidated and seemingly abandoned. They were gray with rusting edges and a slow, methodical creaking noise echoed through the empty lot. Schlatt looked around suspiciously, feeling paranoia crawl across his skin, but there wasn’t another person in sight as far as he could see. His shoes tapped sharply against the ground with every cautious step, and the sound rang through the air. 

He had stopped in front of the closest warehouse, and that’s where he was now, brushing stray fingers over the gun in his pocket and practicing his professional grin. He took quick, tight breaths, and as the sun warmed his skin, he leaned back against the metal wall and let out a shallow sigh. 

“Hey.” 

Schlatt’s eyes flew open, and he jumped with a start, hand curling around the pistol. Stepping back, his heart jumped at the sight of the person in front of him, an unbelievably tall man with feathery blonde hair and a thick black jacket. The man had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, the sound of his footsteps muffled by foam-soled shoes, and as their stares met, they stepped towards each other. 

“Jonathan Schlatt, nice to meet you.” He stated, a friendly tone lacing his voice, hand outstretched professionally in front of him. The man glanced at it once and took it hesitantly, his grip firm and intimidating.

“I know who you are.” Came the reply, stoic as it sent a spike of nervousness into Schlatt’s stomach. “The kid’s told us about you.”

“O-Oh, did he? I guess I’m just that memorable, ah?” Schlatt remarked, fake confidence weaved into his joking tone. The sun sank lower behind the wall of the nearby warehouse. 

The blonde looked at him sideways, then turned around to start walking. “This way. He said he wanted you to meet us, right?” 

“He… he said you could possibly help me out with a little something,” Schlatt replied, lagging a bit behind his companion, shoes shuffling on the floor as they made their way to the cleanest looking warehouse on the lot. The blonde looked back, scoffed, and continued his long stride over the rough, uneven ground. 

“Help you? Don Ivano doesn’t just help conmen out of the blue.” 

“Conman? I’m a businessman.” The dark-eyed man insisted, the slight jab from the man in front of him stinging sharply.

The blonde chuckled darkly. “Why else would you have a dead assassin on your hands? People don’t waste resources like THAT on honest men.” 

The warehouse that they made their way to, the bigger of the bunch, rose up into the air like a cathedral and loomed intimidatingly in front of the pair. Loose chains swung gently from the roof, pipes sticking out of every surface, and the entrance was a huge, gaping square frame that obviously held a door at some point. The inside was dark, shrouded in shadow, and as Schlatt attempted to peer past the inky blackness, he was slowly made aware that the blonde had stopped behind him. 

“Go in.” Came the flat command, and he stopped in front of the entrance. “They’re waiting for you there.” 

“Yeah, go into the scary black void,” Schlatt voiced dryly, bringing a hand up to brush a stray chain out of his path. He was fairly certain that his heart would leap out of his chest at any moment, and as he took a step forward, he felt dread picking at his every move. 

The air was cold and dusty, and he shivered once, though he didn’t know whether it was from the chill in his bones or the fear coiled in the pit of his stomach. The scent of pine needles and metal was sharp as he breathed it in, and he glanced cautiously around at the railed industrial balconies on the wall and the huge circular vats nearby. His gun almost seemed to wink curiously from his pocket. 

Then, all of a sudden, a light in front of him clicked on, and the room was illuminated. 

“Jonathan Schlatt! I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

The man in front of him was older, maybe in his forties, with a graying black mustache and a round, flashy smile. He was sitting upright in a chair, perched in front of a long brown table furnished with only a single lamp and a coffee cup. Three men stood nearby, smoking as they glanced shiftily over at their guest. Schlatt was surprised when the man got up and strode confidently towards him, grabbing his hand and shaking it before he could even think about cordialities. 

“I’m Don Ivano, real pleasure to meet you.” He grinned. “I’m guessin’ you’re here on account of Ty.” 

Schlatt let out a relieved breath of air he didn’t know he was holding. “Yeah, he said I should try and meet you guys. You’re his family, ah?” 

Ivano glanced at the men standing nearby, then back at his guest. “Somethin’ like that, for sure. Actually, maybe I should get the kid for you.”

He turned around, cupped a calloused hand around his mouth, and shouted, “TY! Get your skinny ass down here!” 

There was a surprised yelp from somewhere up around the ceiling, the sound of metal against cloth, and a small, faint call. “Comin’!” 

Suddenly, a long chain flew through the air as it barreled down from the roof, and Ty jumped on the edge, swinging down swiftly. His feet hit the floor with a thump and Schlatt noticed the old, stained pink hoodie draped over his shoulders. Up on the rafters, a small dark purple blanket was hanging a bit off of the edge, a pillow barely visible nearby. The boy almost looked embarrassed as his gaze shifted between his employer and Ivano. 

“Uh, wh— what’d you need, sir?” Ty managed to get out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he yawned quickly. “I was just... just goin’ over—“ 

Ivano held up a finger. “Your friend is with us for a reason, right? You tell us, kid. Why’d you bring him here?” 

He gave Schlatt a quick, lingering glance before opening his mouth to speak. “Well, I—“

“Don’t say anything, Ty.” 

The room grew silent. The gaggle of men smoking in the corner slowly scraped their attention over to the trio, watching with half-lidded stares at the sudden bout of conflict. Ivano narrowed his eyes slightly, the green irises flashing as he glanced between the boy and the man standing behind him. Ty looked up at Schlatt, shocked. 

“Excuse me?” Ivano inquired sharply. 

Schlatt felt a blast of adrenaline coursing through his veins, and took a step forward, running a steady hand through his hair. “Sorry, Mr. Ivano, but our matter is pretty serious. And as a businessman myself, I needa be smart about this, you know? We barely met, I don’t know anythin’ about you. I can't give up valuable info just yet.”

There was another pause, and suddenly, loud laughter echoed from the man’s chest. He gave Schlatt a playful, slightly painful punch on the arm, and stepped towards his desk casually. “I’m messin’ with you! Listen, I respect that. I do. But if you came here to do business, we need to do business.” 

“Yeah, of course.” The dark haired man moved to sit down at the other end of the table, opposite his mysterious negotiator. Ty still looked pale and anxious as he slowly made his way to Schlatt, seemingly unable to decide who to stand with. The businessman cleared his throat and laced his fingers. “It’d kinda help if I knew somethin’ about you, ah?” 

Ivano clicked his tongue. “Oh, right. Well, I’m glad I could ease your mind. I’m… hm, how do I put it? I guess you could say I’m kinda like a branch manager for a group of my men called the Family.” 

Schlatt leaned forward. “The… the Family? Are you guys a gang?” 

The man rolled his eyes and let out a sharp bark of laughter that cut through the air like a knife. “God no. That word is so ugly. No, we’re not a gang, we’re… an organization.” 

“Right, right, not a gang. But you do work like one, ah?”

“I guess you could say that.” Came the obligatory reply. “But we don’t resort to the cheap tactics used by other average groups of thugs, carelessly runnin’ their streets with drugs and booze. Makes me sick to think about. No, we do things professionally. Quietly.” 

Schlatt sat back gently in his chair, surprised when one of the men from before slid a clear glass of water near his hand. He picked it up, eyed the condensation building up on the sides, and took a small sip. His hands were shaking slightly. “What do you mean, quietly?” 

“I’m gonna paint a picture for you here,” Ivano stated, a bit of a cunning edge to his usually friendly voice. The light from the lamp seemed to have started to fade, and Schlatt could see nothing but the man across the table and Ty’s downcast face. “People like us have territories, right? Turf to protect. And usually, when you’re protectin’, you’re gonna make a helluva lotta noise.” 

The dark-eyed man stayed silent, waiting for the other to continue. He could feel a cold sweat settle into his skin, and his brain raced with thoughts, trying in vain to anticipate what his negotiator would say. 

“Have you ever heard of the Family?” 

A pause. “...No.” 

“That’s what I mean by quiet. The common folk never really know about the stuff we do, but you wanna guess how big our turf is?” 

Schlatt swallowed past the lump in his throat. “How big, Mr. Ivano?” 

The man leaned forward and lowered his voice, his tone grave and his deep green eyes glimmering. “We control the entirety of the Bronx. The whole thing. We’re up into Brooklyn, and… we’re thinkin’ of makin’ a move on Wall Street.” 

“Holy shit,” the dark haired man breathed, slumping back slightly in his chair, mind rushing to calculate just how much of New York they controlled. How had he never heard of them before? Why was he sitting with one of their prominent leaders in the desperate bid for protection? Had a Family member really been in their employment for all these months without them knowing? Schlatt gazed at the kid standing next to his shoulder, who had a proud look on his face and his arms folded over his chest. From across the table, Ivano nodded. 

“So, now you know who we are. What we do.” The man leaned back and opened his palms upward as if expectantly awaiting something. “Now it’s your turn, Jonathan Schlatt. What are you here for?” 

Sighing, Schlatt rubbed the nape of his neck and moved his chair a bit farther from the table. He felt anxious, and as the words left his mouth, he felt his throat getting drier and drier. “I… I went into a sorta deal with Robert Daire, you know him?” 

Ivano’s eyes narrowed. “THAT sunovabitch. Yeah, unfortunately.” 

“Well… I kinda screwed him over, right? Big time, we’re talkin’ some good cash here. And he gets mad and he sends over one of his goons to kill me.” 

The man across the table touched his fingertips together and gestured towards his guest smoothly. “I’m guessin’ since you’re not dead that you killed him. Right?” 

Schlatt felt his face grow hot and guilt wriggle like a worm in his stomach, and he brought a hand up to his forehead, surprised at how cold his skin felt. “I swear to god I didn’t mean to. I’m a businessman, not a fuckin’ killer. But I… I mean, what else could I do..?” 

“That’s not good.” Ivano got up quickly, pacing back and forth along the length of the table, making large, expressive gestures in the air as he went. 

The dark haired man buried his head in his hands and groaned. “I know, I was just tryin’ to get the gun away, I swear—“

“No, not that,” Came the snappy reply. “It’s not good that Daire hasn’t heard back from his guy yet. He’s gonna assume you’re still alive…”

Ivano whirled around gravely. 

“And then he’s gonna come for you again, and this time it won’t fail.”

“Jesus,” Schlatt whispered, oblivious to the little reassuring pats that Ty administered onto his back. If his hands were trembling before, they were definitely shaking now, the adrenaline that came with talking to a mob boss replaced with debilitating fear. Ivano slunk back into his seat and crossed one leg over the other, turning a penetrating stare onto his panicked guest. 

“The Family can help you with that.” 

Schlatt looked up weakly. “You mean like, protection?” 

A sharp grin. “That’s exactly what I’m sayin’. A cut of the sweet dough that your little company makes in exchange for 24/7 protection from me and my men.” The man looked at the duo on the other side of the table and ran his hands over the wood surface with a knowing ease. “The Family looks out for each other. We’ve got your back... if the price is right.” 

Wordlessly, Schlatt pushed his chair back, stood up, and walked slowly over to Ivano’s side of the table. It was nighttime outside by now, the cool dark blue light finding its way through cracks and shutters. The smoking men from before had slunk into the background, melting into the walls and back passages of the warehouse. The wind had stopped, and it was silent and decisive as the negotiation was made. Ty watched as his employer leaned down, whispered something into the other’s ear, and shook hands with him. 

The boy felt a glimmer of pride as he climbed back up onto the rafters, wrapping himself in his blanket as he watched the dark eyed man leave. He was proud of himself for helping his friends, helping his family, and as he laid his head down promptly on his pillow, he gazed out of the window that overlooked the lot. Schlatt was doubled over a nearby overturned dumpster, dry heaving into the filth, and the moon seemed to light every spot except where he kneeled. 

The night was cool and the deal was made.


	8. The Boxing Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sometimes it’s fun to write characters as their opposites! you’ll see what i mean ;)

Jonathan Schlatt was back in the game, baby. After two weeks spent at home with a fever of 102 degrees, vomiting into a bucket and weakly watering the single baby cactus on his windowsill, he was back in action. Connor had stopped by a lot and attempted to speak with his partner as if nothing happened, bringing medicine and an old console so they could play Doom from opposite ends of the couch, and the company was run well by Ted when they were away. Ty had crouched on the ground outside of Schlatt’s window and shouted meaningless conversation at 6 in the afternoon, taunting angry neighbors who threw spatulas and newspapers at him.

Schlatt had curled the blanket around his shoulders, warding off the chill from his bones as he shuffled to the window night after night. His cloudy eyes would scan the sidewalk, heart leaping with paranoia, and every rowdy teenager and shambling old man seemed to be out to get him. His blinds were drawn tight furiously, and the sliver of comforting moonlight that had streamed through the foggy window before was now replaced with cold, industrial metal. 

After two weeks came and went, things were starting to get better, no more nightmares and fear-gripped trips to the mailbox. Schlatt had woken up that Thursday, threw on his suit, and stood rigid in front of the front door. The toes of his shiny new dress shoes were frozen in front of the doorframe, and he felt a clogging terror squeeze it’s icy fingers around his throat like a vice. He had groaned, shut the door, and collapsed back into bed defeatedly. 

The dark eyed man kept the suit on all day and gazed out of the window with half lidded, bored eyes, watching all the people who weren’t terrified for their lives go about their day. His home was his haven, and the outside was cold and violent and filled with people who would love to kill him, so it was really no question which was the better place to be. 

When the weekend came and went, though, he knew he had to do something about his problem, and he ironed out the creases in his newly ordered jacket— one identical to the blood rag that was undoubtedly rotting in a dumpster somewhere in Utica. He ran his fingers over the stiff fabric and threw it on confidently, repeating his ritual of freezing at the door and nearly hyperventilating when he took a step outside. But then his legs started to move, one step, and another, and another, and he was standing in front of the bus stop in record time. A cold sweat had stood out on his skin, and he fit his clammy hands together and gave the bus driver his ride card.

Connor, Ty, and Ted applauded his return to the office with a loud, raucous cheer, and a wide smile had danced over his lips gracefully as he gave the three a mock bow. His desk was waiting for him like an old friend, and he brushed off the light cover of dust that had settled on the surface before sitting down and cracking his knuckles. That evening, as the trio outside sat down with each other and traded first kiss stories, the dark eyed man stayed inside of his office and gazed out onto the angry, violent city that lay below him.

Tears had welled up in his eyes for just a second. He fought them down, clenching his fists frustratedly and pressing them onto the cool glass, feeling the chill as the top of his head rested against it. His chest constricted tightly, trapping his heart in a burning, beating cycle, and he grit his teeth together and felt the dull ache.

Schlatt wasn’t afraid. He ISN’T afraid. And he couldn’t afford to be for the rest of his life. He was back in the game, and if he wanted to win it, he’d have to play harder. People like Daire and Ivano and all the other businessmen who had MADE something of themselves didn’t have the crippling fear that made him stay home for two weeks straight, that made him nauseous every time he stepped outside. He needed to learn to think like them, act like them, become them. 

Schlatt needed more. 

—

“Hey guys, the CEO of Tinder’s gonna be there!” Ted called, smoothing back his hair with a stray hand and kicking his legs back on his desk. The day was bright and sunny, with a barrage of golden light streaming in through the nearby windows, and everyone was gathered in the central part of the office, laptops and empty smoothie cups strewn across the ground. A professional-looking red envelope was torn open and displayed proudly in the center of the messy chaos, with the words ‘Manhattan Entrepreneur Conference 2018’ printed in loud black lettering on the front. 

Schlatt was sitting crosslegged on the ground, stiff dress pants traded out for soft, pliable sweats. He tugged at them loosely as he scrolled through the Entrepreneur Con’s website, a soft grin dancing on his face as he eyed the invitation over and over. It had showed up that morning in the mail, and Ted had opened it mock-professionally as he swiveled in his chair, calling the others over excitedly. It was going to be a huge business convention right in the center of Manhattan, with CEOs and pioneers from different companies all showing up to talk to the up-and-coming investors and businessmen about how to make it big. 

When his eyes scanned the back of the envelope for the first time, seeing his name printed in regal gold lettering made Schlatt’s heart skip a beat. It looked almost… important, personal in a way. He had run his fingers over it and tore it open excitedly, and now he couldn’t help but to sneak a glance at its red backing every now and then. 

“D’you think these blue smoothies have blue raspberries in ‘em?” Ty asked curiously, swirling his straw around in the slush, watching as it melted together slowly. His legs were kicked out behind him as he laid on his stomach, rolling aimlessly over the floor next to his laptop.

“Ty, enough about the smoothies,” Connor urged good-naturedly, reaching down to ruffle the kid’s hair, chuckling to himself when his hand was slapped indignantly away. “Blue raspberries don’t exist, man.” 

“Seriously?” Schlatt chimed in, training a quizzical look into the brunette, who turned upwards to meet his eyes with a plaintive smile. “I swear to you I’ve definitely had some before. They were like… more purple than blue, but—-“

“Those are blackberries!” Connor interjected, laughing harder now, leaning back a bit as his shoulders shook, the light orange smoothie in his hand sloshing around energetically. “C’mon, I’m really carrying the SMART side of this company. Me and Ted.” 

The brunette turned to look at Ted, glancing his way expectantly for a response, but was instead met with a dismissive wave and a concerned downcast stare. Schlatt and Connor looked across the room at each other for a brief moment, then moved closer to the worried man that was perched haphazardly on his chair. 

“What’s… ah… what’s goin’ on?” 

Ted’s response came quick, and it was shaky and tight-lipped as he turned the laptop around with a slow, fluid slide. His eyes darted swiftly to the door, then back at his employers. “Schlatt… have you seen this?” 

A blade of fear sliced its way through his chest, and he felt his heart leap as he scrambled towards the computer. The Entreprenuer Convention website was still open to the guest speakers tab, the bold red and gold leaping out at them like a beacon, and as he scanned the website with wide eyes, he dreaded seeing what could possibly be making Ted so anxious. It was structured in a featured list, with the names of speaking people or companies paired with a picture or logo, and his gaze scraped the screen and suddenly froze. 

There, right in the middle of the list, was a company and logo listed under the category, ‘cryptocurrency’. The bold, aggressive font spelled out the word ’Technocracy‘ with a pink and red shine, and the displayed icon was a minimalist pig wearing an angry crimson crown. The location revealed tauntingly that they were located in Manhattan, and the page displayed a picture of the speaker that was going to be delivering the pitch. Information kept coming up, over and over, quips about their rising stock and the overwhelmingly high prediction for their end profit. They had only had their cryptocurrency out for a week, but it was already making over half of the money that Schlattcoin was. 

“Holy shit,” the dark-eyed man breathed out, his voice a furious whisper and his eyes despairingly wide. “What the fuck is this?” 

“Apparently it’s another New-York based crypto!” Ted exploded, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration as he jumped up quickly from his chair. He strung his fingers together and gave his bosses a rigid stare. “I had heard about it on the radio this morning but tuned it out! They’re some big promising startup whose stock is fucking wonderful! AND they’re having a big international sales guy speak for them at the con!” 

“They… they can’t just do this shit and get away with it!” Schlatt cried, anger starting to build up in the pit of his stomach like a hissing, coiled snake. “I started this market, how could they just come right up here near the headquarters and just start doin’ whatever they want?! That’s not right, man!” 

“Schlatt’s right, WE started this market,” Connor corrected flatly, giving his partner an apprehensive stare, “But there’s nothing we can really DO about it. Capitalism is built on competing industries, if we become successful there’s bound to be competition at some point.” 

“We can’t sue ‘em or anything?” Ty asked, voice laced with childish disappointment as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I wanna sue ‘em.” 

“There’s no way we can sue them and win, they made sure of that,” The brunette replied frustratedly, leaning over the table with a sullen, swift move, fingers spreading over the warm wood. “Colors, name, interface. They’re all different. I mean… the only similarities we really share with them is the fact that we’re a cryptocurrency company based in Manhattan.” 

Ted groaned darkly, resting his forehead against the wall, and Schlatt stood in front of his computer, watching the analytics of Technocracy rise and stagnate, rise and stagnate. Not once did the company’s finances even dip. The dark haired man ran a clammy palm over his face and switched back to the convention tab, reading the description with gritted teeth as he tuned the heated conversation between his coworkers out. 

‘Run by a promising 22 year old businessman, Technocracy is the solution to stable inward economy and an easier way to pay for travel. Partnered with the New York Metro System, this crypto can be used to pay for your yearly metro membership and any additional rides you need! Taxis, bus fares, and even plane rides can be paid for using the sleek, state of the art app. Both the CEO of the company and renowned international salesman Carson King will be making appearances at the 2018 Manhattan Entrepreneur Con.’ 

On one of the featured pictures of the page was of the two promised attendees, taller smiling men, standing next to each other on a carpeted stage. One of the men was blonde with blocky square glasses and a nervous grin, the other was sleek, lean, with an-all red suit and what looked like an inky black jacket. The crowd around them was big and excited, faces frozen in enthusiastic murmurs, and Schlatt could almost feel his blood heat up in his veins. 

“We have t‘go.” He stated, looking up matter-of-factly, watching as the trio across the table from him quieted and looked up with unsure glances. He cleared his throat and turned the computer screen around with a gratingly slow movement. “To the con, I mean. We gotta show up and talk to this guy.” 

“Talk to him?” Ted responded, voice slightly high as he pushed his glasses further up onto his nose. “What are we going to do, ask him nicely to stop ripping us off?” 

“Yeah, that doesn’t make sense,” Connor lifted himself out of his seat and crossed the room, nudging his partner gently with his shoulder. “If we go to the con, we go in order for US to build our business, we don’t have to worry about him. As long as we keep building our company, this is just a small obstacle, that’s all.” 

“You don’t get it, Connor!” Schlatt sighed, burying his head in his hands and groaning frustratedly. “You weren’t the one who came up with all this, ah? I convinced YOU! This business is the only thing keepin’ me from bein’ like I was a couple months ago, broke and… y’know. …I gotta talk to this guy, maybe make him a deal, buy his company, whatever! I can’t lose Schlatt Co. to this motherfucker, get it!?” 

The room was silent for a moment, as Connor met Schlatt’s eyes with a relenting stare, letting out a downcast breath of air and nodding. “I get it, man. …Alright, we’ll try to contact him, okay?” 

Silently, the dark-eyed man grinned, face determined and tense with anticipation as the sun outside fell behind a murky cloud. Ted and Ty smiled unsurely, emotions flitting over their face like a slideshow, and as they got up once more to crowd around the computer, the artificial brightness of the screen bore into their eyes. 

Schlatt glared at the two smiling men on the website, whose arms were raised in a professional, flashy wave. “I’m gonna tear this guy apart.”

—

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, international salesman and author, Carson King!” 

The room was filled with the light clamor of professional applause and the sound of people who were rigid and starched shifting in their seats. The conference hall was huge and inviting, with a plush tan carpet and marbled grecian pillars rising up from the floor. In front of rows and rows of upholstered metal chairs was a grand stage, with black fabric falling down in a wave over the front. A single microphone and projector screen was lowered carefully onto the platform. 

Schlatt Co, minus Ted, had shown up to the con an hour late, couldn’t find a place to park, and had to walk for fifteen minutes down a busy tourist sidewalk to the convention hall. Ty had claimed to have stayed up late “workin’ on stuff for the company, guys”, and had knocked out the second they settled into their seats. The crowd was noisy, chattering back and forth about stocks and revenue and percentages, and the conference room had filled up quickly. Schlatt had anxiously joked around with Connor for about half an hour before running out of material and begrudgingly waiting in silence for the presentation to start. About an hour later, the announcer had finally gotten the ball rolling. 

Schlatt looked on with bated breath as his fingers curled into fists on his lap, knuckles digging into his slacks. The applause still hadn’t died down, and he felt a sharp twinge of frustration spike into his stomach. Right when things were starting to look up for them, right when he finally had the courage to step outside and run his business like he should’ve been doing, another bomb was dropped that made his stomach twist. He had to see this presentation, had to know what he was up against. 

Connor leaned over slightly, as far as he could go with a sleeping Ty resting his head on the brunette’s shoulder, and whispered, “Hey, you okay?” 

The dark-haired man’s eyes grew wide. “Wh—- Oh yeah, I’m fine! Thanks, man.” 

Suddenly, he was aware of the silence that had come over the room, and he whipped around quickly, eyes blurring as he struggled to adjust his vision. The lights in the room dimmed dramatically, causing a murmur to rise up from the crowd, and Schlatt looked around, bewildered. 

An image was suddenly projected onto the screen, a static picture of the company’s logo, and the blonde man from the website’s photo ascended the stairs quickly, waving as he did so. He had a flashy yet nervous smile, and an anxious sheen of sweat stood out on his face as he adjusted his tie. The announcer that had stood on the stage just minutes earlier handed him a small cordless microphone, and he took it a bit hesitantly, taking long strides to the end of the stage. When he spoke, his voice was deep and throaty. 

“Ladies and gentlemen of the 2018 Manhattan Entrepreneur Con, welcome to the presentation!” 

A spotlight set up in the back of the room turned on with a loud click, shooting its powerful beams onto the blonde, bathing him in its orange glow. The audience cheered slightly louder his time, speaking lowly to each other, eyes big as they glanced at the sleek logo projected onto the front of the room. The salesman cleared his throat matter-of-factly, and the conference hall went quiet. 

“My name is Carson King, international salesman and proud employee of an up-and-coming business of the future. You, uh, might’ve heard my name before, featured as the author of the book ‘Funny Man: Why You Should Incorporate Comedy Into Your Sales Pitches. But I’m not here today to talk to you about my long and… well, cool career as an author, I’m here to talk to you about the insanely awesome product that’s been blowing up right here in New York: Technocracy!” 

Schlatt rolled his eyes as he watched Carson take a step back and press a button on the black clicker in his hand. The slide changed smoothly from the pink and red logo to the stock page for the company, and the dark-eyed man felt his gut twist. 

“This right here, is, uh,” the blonde began, faltering a bit as his eyes ran over the charts and graphs. “... A lotta numbers.” 

The crowd laughed, and Carson’s confident mask came back as he winked corporately at the audience. “Nah, this happens to be the amazingly good stocks for our company, and this graphic right here is live! To put in into perspective for all you smart people in the audience, Technocracy opened around a week and a half ago, and our statistics haven’t gone down ONCE.” 

The spotlight in the back flashed as if signaling its approval, and amazed murmurs echoed throughout the room. From his place curled up on his chair, Ty stirred from his nap and blinked slowly as Connor accidentally leaned too far to the right. 

“This is so fucked up,” Schlatt muttered, running a nervous thumb over his lip, trying as hard as he could not to get into the presentation. He couldn’t deny the fact that this Carson guy was extraordinarily charismatic, funny and sharp in an awkward, endearing way, and he seemed to have the whole room under his control. In another world, he’d have loved to have the blonde salesman on his team. 

“The purpose of Technocracy is limitless, but we happen to specialize in one thing…” Carson threw his arms open wide as a new slide appeared swiftly. “Transportation! With this easy-to-use, easy-to-pay cryptocurrency, gone are the days of forgetting your bus fares! No more late flight bookings, no more fumbling for your metro card in front of the old Italian man that gets irrationally mad! Seriously, what’s the big issue?” 

“You can ditch Uber and Lyft and replace them all within a centralized, transportation-focused app. The exchange rate is low and will only continue to grow, so if I were you, I’d put in my dollars now! And for all the investors in the audience, I mean… what more do I need to say?” 

Carson grinned and pressed the clicker, the bright pixels showing nothing but a stack of money in the middle of an otherwise blank slide. “You guys like money, yeah?” 

The audience whooped endearingly, a light, slightly unprofessional sound. 

“I know I do! I really like money, which is why I invested in Technocracy! With the sleek, modern interface, growing stock value, and straight-from-New York economy boost, why WOULDN’T you chip in some cash to get your money’s worth?” The crowd was riled up now, enthusiastically talking back and forth to one another, the sound almost deafening as it rang through the room. Schlatt’s throat went dry as he saw the businesspeople all around him go crazy over the product, and he buried his head in his hands and let out a low, shaky groan. Onstage, Carson smiled good-naturedly as he gestured to the left side of the stage. 

“Now, I know you’re all amazed, because honestly, who wouldn’t be? But I have one last thing to present…” he dragged out his words carefully as fabricated suspense lingered in the air, and suddenly, his voice became loud and cheery. “Let’s welcome to the stage, Mr. Techno himself!” 

The crowd held their breath as a tall, gaunt man suddenly materialized out of the throng of people, long strides taking him up the stairs two at a time. He stopped at the top, adjusted his glasses and ran his fingers through a shock of light brown hair, and waved at the crowd. 

“Hey, Manhattan!” 

The audience cheered suddenly as he gave a small sheepish bow, pleasant surprise etched over his kind looking face. He took the microphone from his partner graciously, nodded once and smiled, then turned towards the applauding businesspeople. His voice was low and silky, slightly monotone as it echoed through the conference room. 

“Thanks for such a warm welcome, New York, I really appreciate it.” Came his good-natured, charismatic quip. His crimson suit shone in the targeted light, and his eyes flashed as he looked down at the attentive crowd. “I just wanted to come up here and say how grateful I am for the chance to show all my hard work to you. I built this company with the future in mind, and I’m glad to see that you all are ALSO looking towards the future.” 

Schlatt nearly exploded. 

“Me and Mr. King are really glad that you guys have given us a chance to shine here.” Techno gestured warmly towards his partner, who nodded, a smile of solidarity standing out on his face. “I’d like to go above and beyond with my company starting from now, in order to give the people of this city and eventually, the country, what they deserve. The dedication I put into this product will be seen all over the globe with your fine contributions, whether that’s simply by using the app or by pledging funds. I’d like to extend a gracious and hearty thank you to everyone who’s considering investing some of your hard earned money in my venture. And…” 

Techno paused for a second, cleared his throat… and seemingly locked his eyes onto Schlatt’s. The dark-haired man nearly jumped out of his seat, startling backwards, letting out a barely-stifled gasp as he met the CEO’s unfaltering gaze. His eyes were glittering, almost smug as he continued speaking, and the man in the crowd felt his skin grow hot as he was unnoticeably singled out. 

“... I’d like the people of the… audience to know that I’ll do anything it takes to become the biggest crypto in the state.” A pause. “Thank you all for your time.” 

And with that, the man had stepped down from the stage and disappeared into the throng of people, blood red suit and cloudy eyes melting away like fog. 

—

“Can you believe it?! That son-of-a-bitch!” Schlatt fumed, walking briskly as he dragged Ty behind him, shoes thumping angrily against the carpeted ground. He swerved tightly around a gaggle of pencil skirt-clad businesswomen and burst into the main convention hall, swiftly flashing his attendee badge and throwing the main doors open. Behind his shoulder, Ty protested indignantly as he slipped loose of his employer’s grip and struggled to keep up. 

“Wha… what’d he do again?” The boy asked breathlessly, half-jogging as his feet flew over the floor. He brought a hand up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and turned to Connor as the taller man spoke. 

“Your boss, an ADULT, thinks that the CEO of that crypto company ‘challenged’ him.” The brunette responded flatly, arms crossed over his chest, long legs moving robotically as he followed the pair into the display center. 

The hall was full of booths and advertisement centers, with lights and flashy banners hung up on every surface. It was cool and the air was stuffy, the floor jam-packed with investors and aspiring businesspeople, looking at booths and chatting with each other. A huge station for restaurant chains stood at the far left end, an marketing firm on the right. In the center of the hall, a huge tower of merchandise and workshop material was erected, all branded with the same name of one of the largest companies in the world: The Misfits Corporation. 

Schlatt bypassed all of the glimmering attractions and stared intently at his map, a burning sensation settling onto his cheeks and jaw as he clenched it tightly. The Technocracy booth was number 457, and according to the monochrome printed map, it was coming up soon on their left. 

“I don’t THINK he challenged me, I KNOW he did!” Came the heated response, angry as it escaped his lips, snaking into the air like a viper. “He stared right at me when he said all that!” 

“Oh, because you’re so special, right?” Connor muttered frustratedly, running a hand through his thick brown hair. They turned at the corner, then shot forward again before stopping. 

The Technocracy booth stood right in front of them like a siren, taunting them with its dark red banners and its smooth inviting lights. The man from earlier, Carson King, sat at the desk, nodding enthusiastically as he talked to an older man who had an agency flyer in his hand. Minimalist designs of the logo cluttered the back booth wall, and a cup of free pens and buttons was pushed forward enticingly. Suddenly, Carson caught their eye and his face fell slightly. Thanking the man abruptly, he shook hands with his agent and watched with narrowed eyes as the trio stepped forward.

“Hey, boys. How are you?” He uttered, folding his fingers together, a slight edge to his words. Schlatt leaned forwards, guts simmering painfully, and jabbed a finger onto the cool desk. Behind him, Connor watched with a guttural sigh. 

“You know exactly how we are.” Came the low growl. “Lemme talk to Techno.”

Carson sucked in a mocking hiss of air between two teeth and twirled a pen clumsily on the pads of his fingers. “No can do, I’m sorry. He’s meeting with investors right now, you gotta do it a different day.” 

Schlatt’s chest swelled incredulously as he laid his palms flat on the desk, oblivious to the worried looks on his partners’ faces. “You tell Techno if he doesn’t wanna meet with us, fine. But deliver this message, paper boy: he obviously knew we were comin’, and if he doesn’t show up now, he’s a coward and a—-“ 

“I’ll let him know, Mr. Schlatt.” Carson interjected swiftly, a hint of triumphant bravado on his face. He leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat matter-of-factly, obviously meaning to say something else, but suddenly, professional words echoed from behind them. 

“What’s all this talk about meetings?” 

They whirled around swiftly, shocked as Techno’s gaunt form appeared almost instantly, long legs striding over to the table with ease. He stretched his arms and smiled, teeth glittering white, shining like the confusion in his eyes. Schlatt couldn’t tell whether it was genuine or not.

It took him a second to regain his voice. “We gotta have a heart-to-heart, you and me, man. This has gotta stop.” 

The tall man’s face fell uncertainly. “I… I don’t think I know what you mean.” 

“You don’t have to entertain them, dude,” Carson replied sourly, deep voice a bit indignant as he gestured to the trio standing defensively in front of him. He crossed his arms over his chest and exhaled loudly. “Don’t know if they’re worth your time.” 

Schlatt’s eyes flew open furiously. “Wha—-!”

“Don’t be like that, Carson.” Came the gentle, even response. The tall, bespectacled brunette was acting kind and tolerant now, Schlatt fumed, but he knew he wasn’t imagining the cutting edge in his eyes when he stared him down at the presentation. Something was going on, and he was frustrated that he couldn’t figure out what. Techno cleared his throat and held out a steady, calloused hand to the shorter man in front of him, giving Ty and Connor a small, plaintive smile. “Here at Technocracy, we’re willing to meet with anyone who has a complaint about what we do. How’s 2 PM lunch sound?” 

“Sounds great.” Schlatt muttered between gritted teeth, gripping the man’s fingers with a little too much force as they shook on it. The chaotic murmur of the crowd swelled and bubbled around them like boiling water, and the coarse skin of Techno’s palm was icy cold in his grip. The two stared at each other for a split second before the taller brunette looked away and adjusted his glasses calmly. 

He stepped behind the booth and stood next to Carson professionally, fingertips touching as he stared the trio down. Ty wilted under his intense gaze as he moved behind his employers, and the brunette’s voice curled into the air nonchalantly. “I look forward to fully meeting you then, Mr. Schlatt.” 

—

The corner cafe was loud and populated, on the corner of a bustling street that stretched from the convention hall to the nearest intersection, and the interior was painted the color of dark coffee and sweet cream. There was a steady flow of people trickling in from the street, talking exaggeratedly on their phones or juggling six cups of steaming liquid as they burst out of the door. The cafe was full of light, floor to ceiling windows allowing a torrent of warm rays into the room, and potted succulents covered every surface. 

Schlatt sat agitated at the corner table, a slightly longer brown desk tucked firmly into the corner of the coffee shop, out of reach of the main walkway. A huge cup of something thick and chocolaty sat in front of him, half finished as he stirred it furiously, the slush inside mixing and melting into a uniform drink. He turned with an abrupt whirl around to Ty, who was sipping a strawberry shake cautiously. 

“You know what I’m gonna do?” Came the exaggeratedly dramatic question. 

“What..?” Ty’s voice was small and flat.

“I’m gonna tell him that if he doesn’t… doesn’t… “ The dark-eyed man trailed off slowly, running a hand over his forehead as he stopped to think. Connor let out a low scoff. 

“Doesn’t do what, Schlatt? Shut down his company? As if.” The brunette leaned down to take a sip of his peach tea, gripping the rim and swirling it irritatedly. “I mean, I’d love for that to happen too, but you saw what he said in there. He wanted to be the best, just like us, and you know that there’s no way in hell we’d shut down the business just because of a possible lawsuit.”

“But—-“

“Which, if they researched before agreeing to meet us, they would know is bullshit. We don’t have any grounds to sue them, so in their minds, they have nothing to be afraid of.” 

“In THEIR minds,” Schlatt grumbled, leaning back exhaustedly in his chair. “They have no idea about our… friends.” 

There was a moment of placid silence before Connor realized what his partner was insinuating, and he quickly let out a shocked gasp, lunging forward to whisper into the man’s ear. 

“You canNOT be fuckin’ serious.” Came the sharp hiss, growing angrier as Schlatt shrugged nonchalantly. 

“I mean, we’ve got the power now, right?” The dark-haired man grinned slyly, giving the now-intrigued Ty a triumphant nod. He paused, ran a finger around the rim of his glass, and took a huge gulp of the shake, tasting nothing but bland ice and cocoa powder. “We can realistically have them send Techno an’ that Carson guy a message, don’t you think?” 

Connor’s brow furrowed as he shook his head firmly. “Not happening, we are NOT getting the MAFIA to… to…” 

The brunette trailed off as the front door of the cafe opened, causing the bell in the front to utter a cheerful cry. They held their breath as they saw the towering, cold businessman step through, adjust his glasses, and rake his eyes over the room, running a hand through his thick hair smoothly. He caught the trio’s eyes and gave them a small nod and a friendly wave, then made his way over to their table. Schlatt felt a rush of adrenaline burst into his veins, and his fingers curled into fists as his adversary sat down gracefully in front of him. The scent of cologne and oranges wafted through the air.

The sound escaped through gritted teeth. “Techno.” 

“Mister… Schlatt, was it? Evening, man. Or should I say afternoon?” His voice was smooth as silk and coyly monotone. 

“Let’s cut the crap, dude. You know me, quit playin’ dumb.” The dark-haired man insisted, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms expectantly. His mind raced, trying eagerly to predict what his opponent would say, keeping his guard up tightly as he watched the brunette’s icy eyes flicker. 

To his surprise, Techno laughed, an endearingly deep sound that seemed to echo through the cafe like a powerful beacon. A few people turned around confusedly to look at them, causing Schlatt’s face to turn a slight crimson with embarrassment, and he gripped his cup with a pair of steady hands. 

The cold brunette ran a finger under his eyes cheerfully, his demeanor slowly growing venomous. “Yeah, I know who you are. Your name is Mister Jonathan Schlatt, you run a cryptocurrency named in your honor out of your headquarters on Wall Street. These two are Connor Corduroy, the son of the Amos Corduroy, a man who happens to be the CEO of an insurance firm, and as for the little one, I have no clue. Though I’m sure it doesn’t matter.” 

“H-How… why…?” Schlatt stammered, racing to compose himself as the two next to him stared at each other with wide eyes. They were careful about putting their names up anywhere in correlation with the company, just in case another Daire incident happened again, and it should’ve been at least the slightest bit hard to reveal their true identities. Techno, who was sitting smugly across the table, just let out another throaty laugh. 

“Don’t act so shocked. See… the thing is, I research everything I like to do very thoroughly in order to create a bigger picture of what it is. I wanted to get into a niche market that had money in it without a lot of trouble, and look at the gold I struck, huh?” Techno goaded, spreading his palms across the cool wood surface of the table as if he was laying out his whole plan to the three men. 

To Schlatt, the coffee shop seemed to melt away behind his opponent, morphing into an impossibly big boxing ring, Techno’s exhilarated, taunting form weaving circles around his adversary as the faceless crowd let out a roar of applause. Gloves appeared on his rough hands and his eyes widened as a fist flew towards him. ‘Don’t act so shocked.’ Wham! Schlatt stumbled back as the other man danced around him nimbly. 

“I knew I had to get my foot in the door somewhere, and I figured New York was the place to do it. The Big Apple, huh? Except… except you were there first with your sparkling yellow coin, and you seemed to be doing pretty well for yourself! Congratulations!” The man narrowed his eyes and threw his hands up in the air, another punch shooting forward and connecting sharply with his opponent’s stomach. Schlatt let out a weak cough and stumbled backwards, clutching at his chest as his guts churned. The crowd jeered at him, bloodlust rising into the air as the murky, shadowy throng chanted for a knockout. 

“But then I did what I do best, Mr. Schlatt, I researched. Isn’t that the most fun part of any project? And do you know what my research confirmed to me?” Techno circled around his opponent, gloves held menacingly to his face as he leaned forward, sinewy arms readying for attack. The dark-eyed man at the other end of the ring could taste blood, could anticipate the force of the next blow, could feel the heat of a bruise beginning to form. He struggled to speak, but his throat was clogged and could barely draw in his next breath. 

Techno lunged forward suddenly, fist flying up behind his shoulder, eyes blazing ferociously, and he swung his punch down with violent force. “You’re WEAK!” 

Wham! Droplets of blood splattered swiftly on the ground nearby.

“Your company’s weak! You and your employees don’t have a clue what you’re doing, and they only stick together through weak bonds!” Another punch, a burning one that snapped Schlatt’s head to the side. “You’re unprofessional! You’re delusional! How could you ever think of competing with me?!” 

The dark-haired man fell to the ground, coughing roughly, a spattering of blood staining his suit as he painfully rolled into his stomach, arms extending shakily as he tried to crawl away. He took a ragged breath, agony shooting through his ribs, and he let out a muffled groan as Techno’s shoes appeared one after the other in front of his beaten body. The crowd went wild, booing and jeering the loser, applauding and yelling out praise for the victor. It was a slaughter.

The brunette squatted to get down to his level, eyeing him as if he was a useless child, brushing the blood off of the front of his boxing gloves with small, circular motion. He clicked his tongue mockingly. “And to think that YOU wanted to meet with me. I’m gonna have the biggest company this side of the country, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Our business model is just too good for YOU to ever match. If I keep going the same rate as I have been, which I plan on doing, my prediction for your company life is about… three months. 

...Tops.”

Schlatt stared in horror at the man who sat in front of him in the coffee shop. Connor and Ty looked on with huge eyes, faces aghast as they watched the confrontation, lost for words. Techno laced his fingers together tauntingly as he folded one leg over the other, and a small, coy yawn escaped his lips. 

“Good luck, Mr. Jonathan Schlatt, it’s been a productive meeting.” He got up professionally and tucked his hands into his pockets, movements triumphant and relaxed. His eyes narrowed as he pushed his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose, and he turned around and laid a twenty on the table with long, slender fingers. His last words echoed venomously through the air. 

“I’m really rooting for you.”

Schlatt couldn’t help but to watch with wide, horrified eyes and white-knuckled fists as his rival walked through the door, brushing it open and leaving nothing but the scent of tangerines and smoke behind him.


	9. Slam Article

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> get ready for a wild ride wooo

“Mr. Schlatt! Mr. Schlatt! What’s your opinion on the meteroric rise of your biggest competitor right now, Technocracy?” 

“No comment.” 

“And what about the stock prices, Mr. Schlatt? They’re the lowest they’ve been for your company since it started, as of about four weeks ago, when Technocracy released. Do you have anything to add to that statement?” 

“Like I said, man, no comment, okay?”

“Are you at all worried about the future of your industry versus the ambitious growth of Mr. Techno?” 

“Listen, you prick! I told you already to leave me alone! I’ve got a meetin’ to go to, so fuck outta my face!” 

“...” 

“And cut the fuckin’ cameras!” 

—

It was unbearably cold inside the office. The heater had sputtered out a few final warm words before promptly choking and dying about three days earlier, plunging the roomy space into a state of perpetual winter. It didn’t help that the weather had begun to swing wildly from chilly to freezing within minutes, a commanding wind always howling outside, biting at cheeks and cutting fingers. The calendar had made its monthly march from October to November, and to celebrate, Ted had morosely put a paper turkey up in the center of the office. 

Schlatt had been working in the office tirelessly since what he called “the stupid incident”. He had left the coffee shop humiliated and arrived home humiliated, and had taken his fury out on the keyboard as he checked stocks, contacted suppliers, and double-checked that Daire’s name was blocked in his email. Nothing had happened since the first time they were targeted, and Schlatt’s weekly meetings with the Family were enough to cement in his mind that he was safe… at least for now. 

“Oh God, I can’t do this…” he had groaned frustratedly, head buried in his hands as his webcam traced the outline of his figure. Wilbur had sighed good-naturedly, bringing a finger up to wipe at his screen, and his pixelated face almost seemed to glow from the other side of the call. 

“Schlatt, calm down, my dude.” Came the pop star’s quiet, melodic voice as it cut in and out slightly through the speakers. “You’ve got this, okay? Remember why I invested in your business in the first place.” 

To Schlatt, even the reassurance from his marketing manager didn’t sound genuine. 

There were days when he thought about abandoning the business. Days when he felt like giving up, throwing in the towel, calling it quits forever and leaving the company behind would be better for him, for his rapidly deteriorating health. He almost caught himself daydreaming about a normal life, a life flipping burgers at the nearest food stand and drinking beer on the rooftop with Connor, but reality soon came tumbling forward like a violent avalanche. He was stuck. Stuck in the industry, stuck paying the Family for his life, stuck with the knowledge that he killed a man for his stupid fucking company. 

He couldn’t abandon everything now, not when he worked so hard to get here. And ESPECIALLY not for someone like Mister Techno. 

The lanky brunette schemer had been busy recently. His company had grown exponentially, gaining him press conference after press conference, charismatic speech after charismatic speech. His pitches were televised live on Channel 7 to a crowd of rich and brilliant supporters, and his signature pink and red was plastered over banners all throughout the city. Talk of his business had been dominating the finance scene, with investors flying in from overseas to hold public meetings with Techno, laughing at his jokes and marveling at his cool confidence. 

Schlatt had silently smoldered when he saw the headlines and reviews, all the praise and admiration being thrown at his competitor. That should’ve been HIM. The people needed to know that underneath the man’s humble, charismatic exterior, he was just as much of a piece of shit as anyone out there. 

… Schlatt just didn’t know how to reveal it yet. 

—

“Ted!” Came the impatient call, rocketing it’s way through the room as Connor folded his arms across his chest. There was a stretched second of silence before the tall brunette poked his head into the room promptly, a sheepish smile dancing over his lips as he eyed his employer. 

“You called and I came, boss.” He grinned, shoving his hands roughly into his pockets as he moved on nimble feet into the small office. The space smelled like cranberries and cardboard, and a slight blanket of tension muffled their voices as they carried across the air. “Is this about..?” 

“Yeah,” The flat reply curled across Connor’s tongue morosely. “Another drop in the stock.” 

“Mm, shiiiiiit.” Ted groaned, reaching a hand out to flip the spare chair around, collapsing into it with a ragged sigh. He was quiet for a moment, eyeing the man sitting across from him first, then the dark, swirling sky outside. “Listen, man… I just—- I don’t know how long we can keep this going on if we don’t switch up the business a bit.” 

“And what d’you think we should do?” The reply came coupled with a curious raise of the eyebrow. 

“Honestly?” Ted murmured, voice muffled as he buried his jaw into the crook of his elbow, laying his head flat on the desk. He seemed to pause quickly to think about his next words. A slight glimmer of hope seemed to spark in his eyes. “Maybe it’s time to branch out, you know? Do things other than crypto. Now that we’re established, what’s stopping us from becoming the next Uber, huh?” 

Connor chuckled warmly, picking up the still-warm ceramic mug that lay on his desk, fingers tracing the outline of the yellow logo. The Schlattcoin mascot, a tiny cartoon ram with a glittering yellow coin in his hooves, seemed to smile up at the man tauntingly. Outside, a violent crack of thunder ripped through the sky, and Connor’s face fell with a hopeless jolt. 

“Schlatt’s never gonna go for that. It’d be like admitting defeat or whatever.” 

Ted nodded solemnly, face falling farther into his plush tan sweater. His breath billowed out in front of him like thick white clouds, and he pulled his sleeves further down over his hands, cursing the broken heater for the fifth time that day. He felt frustration grow like a virus in the pit of his stomach, and he sat up quickly and glared at the office that he knew lay just behind the wall. 

“Stubborn ass.” 

“Hm..?” 

Ted folded his arms across his chest. “I’m saying, Schlatt is a stubborn motherfucker who needs to learn that not everything can be his way all the time, you know? It’s time he started making some sacrifices for the sake of the company, or whatever.” 

Connor’s eyes flashed sharply. “He’s made more sacrifices for this business than you know, man.” 

The brunette across the table folded his arms and pushed his glasses up, sighing before relenting his partner a good-natured smile. “You know him better than I do, dude. I’d bet. It’s just… he’s wound so tight all the time and I think it would be good to get him a break, you know? Maybe just for the weekend, or something like that. I’ve actually been thinking that the four of us could—-“ 

Suddenly, a sharp, grating ring cut through the rainy murmur, and the phone rattled ominously on its handle. Connor was the first out of his chair, shooting Ted a confused glance as he moved towards the slightly cracked door, slender fingers closing around the handle. He hadn’t even stepped from the doorframe yet when Schlatt shot out of his office like a stray bullet, making a beeline for the phone, startling Ty as he bolted past. 

“I got it!” He called, shooting a hand out to snatch up the receiver, bringing it to his ear cautiously. The rest of the group had filed out of their offices and into the main room, and Schlatt had eyed them flatly as they formed a group around him. There was only a faint buzzing static on the other end of the line, and the dark-haired man gave the landline an exasperated glance. “Ah, hello..?” 

“Mister Jonathan Schlatt. Very nice to talk to you again.” 

Schlatt jumped backwards, eyes shooting open in surprise, heart leaping into action as he instantly recognized the voice on the other side of the phone. His fingers curled into white-knuckled fists, and he steadied himself on the nearest table before responding through gritted teeth. 

His voice was venom. “Techno. Why the fuck are you callin’ me?” 

The other man laughed, voice electronic and buzzing as it bled through the speaker. “Don’t act so defensive, man! I’m just checking up on you, that’s all. You seemed to be in somewhat… low spirits, the last time I saw you.”

“Hang up the fuckin’ phone and leave me alone.” Schlatt managed to spit out, palm sweaty and fingers shaking around the thick plastic handle. Connor looked over his partner’s shoulder incredulously, gaze trained on the commotion going down in front of him, and pulled Ty a bit farther away from his employer. 

“Actually, my friend, you HAVE caught me in a bit of a lie.” Techno admitted slyly, causing Schlatt to flinch and instinctively step back. “You’re right. I called you for a reason, silly me! I almost forgot!” 

“Spit it out, bitch!” The dark-eyed man demanded, driving his knuckles firmly into the table, waiting with a fiery, blooming anger as he took ragged breaths. Across the line, his opponent chuckled and let out a triumphant sigh. 

“Forgive me for making this call. I wouldn’t have been able to bring myself to speak to you again if it wasn’t for the simple… irritating fact that you just refuse to DIE.” 

“W-What?!” Schlatt could barely hear his own voice as it rushed in a shocked breeze past his lips. His mind was reeling with thoughts, jumbled cries and accusations, paranoia and panic lacing together and pummeling his brain. He could feel his throat constrict frantically as he clutched at the receiver like a lifeline, and he could vaguely hear the alarmed shouts of the men standing behind him. 

“What’s that? You sound like you’ve seen a ghost.” Techno announced smugly, each word stabbing Schlatt in the gut like a heated knife. “I mean your business, naturally. It seems my estimate was a bit off on how long it’ll take for your little backyard operation to draw in its last breaths, but no matter.” 

Lunging forward, Ty scrambled for the phone, yanking it out of his employer’s trembling hands and holding it out in front of him as if he was actually face to face with the commanding voice inside the speaker. “What the hell d’you mean by that, huh? Mister Schlatt’s gonna fuck you up big time!” 

Techno paused for a second, silence curling into the air like black smoke, before explosive laughing could be heard over the line. Schlatt watched with glassy eyes as Ty let out an unwilling gasp and fumbled with the phone handle, brows furrowing indignantly as he waited impatiently for the other man to finish. 

“Aah,” Techno sighed happily, and the group could almost hear him wiping tears away through the call. “Schlatt. Didn’t know you were hiring 8-year-olds to deliver threats for you now. I gotta say, I’m pretty shaken up, you truly do have me fearing for my life. Speaking of which… I’ve got a surprise for you, Mr. CEO.” 

Ty’s eyes were glued to the floor in quiet embarrassment as he handed the phone back to his boss, and Schlatt could almost feel the burn of the plastic as it made contact with his skin. Slowly, as if facing a disaster, he brought the speaker up to his ear, willing himself to say something, anything to the other man. 

The room was silent. Rain pelted the window and thunder rumbled forebodingly just outside the frosted glass. Techno clicked his tongue mercilessly. 

“It might interest you to know that I recently came forward with a story that, for me, was VERY very hard to talk about.” A pause. “After all, being threatened by a man with a business four times as big as yours is a horribly traumatic experience… wouldn’t you say, Mr. Schlatt?” 

Almost instantly, Schlatt dropped the phone to the ground, the sound of it echoing through the office with a hollow thud, and raced towards his computer. Fingers flying over the keyboard, his eyes darted frantically over the screen as the horrified cries of the other three men pierced through the air. The first page loaded and his heart slammed into the floor, causing his breath to hitch roughly as he felt rage burst into his chest. 

A headline read: “Technocracy Founder Allegedly Threatened by CEO of Competing Business, Jonathan Schlatt.”

Schlatt felt time slow to a crawl as his eyes raced over the letters again and again, the bold outline of the block font burning into his brain, making his eyes burn painfully. His fingers shook as he scrolled down, oblivious to his coworkers as they rushed to look over his shoulder, gaze scanning the screen in a rush of fervent incredulity. Techno’s smiling face was plastered onto the page underneath the slanderous headline, a normal expression that looked like a twisted, triumphant smirk to the four gathered around the table. 

“Wh… what is that..?” Ty stammered, voice barely a raspy whisper as it tumbled past his lips. Schlatt was still silent, jaw clenched tightly, fury coursing through his veins and making his skin burn. 

“Slam article.” Ted responded gravely, leaning forward a bit. He exhaled shakily. “Trying to make us look bad. Trying to drop our stock. ...I guess this is what he meant by dying quickly, he—-“ 

“FUCK..!!” 

The shout clawed its way out of Schlatt’s throat, barreling past his tongue and scratching his lips as he slammed his fist into the table furiously. A loud, echoing thud sliced its way through the air as he sucked in a ragged, pained breath, feeling a burst of agony explode through his knuckles. The three men behind him leapt back in shock, watching with wide eyes as he leaned his forehead against the nearest wall, palms flying up quickly to cover his face. 

Connor took an unsure step forward. Silence enveloped the room. “Schlatt… are you okay..?” 

A pause, then quiet, muffled speech. “Connor… read the fuckin’ article to me.” 

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” the brunette conceded lowly, eyes shifting between his partner and the glowing, glaring laptop screen. “I don’t think it’d be useful to us, dude. It’d just get you down more, right? And besides, this might be the push we need to get serious, man. If he’s steppin’ up, maybe we need to—-“

“Just read it.” Came the grim response, low and solemn as it was met with a slow, conceding nod. Connor moved to the laptop cautiously, glimmering eyes raking over the text, the reflection of the screen bathing the room in cold white light. Ted and Ty stood back, faces anxious and skin pale, stares fixated ahead of them as if they were witnessing some sort of gruesome accident.

The brunette cleared his throat and began. “Uh… the, uh, the founder and CEO of the latest explosive crypto startup, Techno Blade, has come forward to KVLA 4 news with allegations regarding criminal blackmail from the president of a competing business, Schlattcoin. Blade testified in front of news cameras early November 6th, stating that he was… was threatened with bodily and financial harm by Schlatt himself when they allegedly met at the 2018 Manhattan Entreprenuer’s Conference.” 

Schlatt’s eyes blazed as he whirled around to face the trio, an indignant cry leaping from his lips. “That MOTHERFUCKER!!” 

“Blade, in a conversation with KVLA 4 news, gave the following statement,” Connor continued shakily. “‘As you all can imagine, I was quite scared for my life. It was very troubling to hear this from a man in the industry that I looked up to so much.’ Blade goes on to explain, ‘He said he was willing to get involved in my private life as well as my financial life, and threatened to sue me despite having no legal grounds to do so. It’s safe to say that I was absolutely appalled. To think that he could do such a thing… well, it goes to show how far jealousy and greed can push some people.’” 

Connor looked up from the screen slowly, meeting the eyes of the men standing around him. Each face dully shone with a different emotion, anger, indignance, dread. His fingers reached for the laptop screen and shut it gently. 

“So… so now whadda we do..?” Ty asked quietly, voice small and laced with worry, and he stepped forward to glance between his employers. “I mean… whadda we even say?” 

“Speakin’ publicly in a situation like this might just make things worse,” Connor sighed, collapsing into the nearest chair, head falling into his hands exhaustedly. “For now, we might as well just wait and see the public reaction.” 

Schlatt took a step back in shock, eyes widening furiously as he threw an arm out towards the brunette. “So, so you’re sayin’ we just sit here on our asses and don’t even defend ourselves?!” 

The brunette’s head snapped up in irritation, and he jumped to his feet in an angry flash. “Yeah man, that’s exactly what I’m saying, okay?” 

“You’re a pussy, you know that?!” Schlatt growled, jabbing a finger into the taller man’s chest. “Ever since this whole thing started, you NEVER wanted to do anythin’ except sit there and take the hits! Fight back for once in your life, ah?!” 

“Hey guys, let’s just calm down, okay?” Ted urged firmly, long arms extending into the air, attempting in vain to separate the two. “We can’t accomplish anything by—-“

“And YOU!” Schlatt spat, angry glare turning onto the secretary, eyes fiery as they burned a hole into the man’s head. “I heard you earlier, talkin’ shit about MY policies! If you wanna say somethin’, say it to my face, got it?!” 

Ted’s eyes darted around as he was taken aback. “Look, dude, that’s not what I was trying to do.” 

“It’s starting to seem like Ty’s the only one with any SENSE around here!” Schlatt shouted, waving an arm wildly as he gestured at the shocked intern. He was standing apart from the other three, blistering rage spewing from his lips, a tall, thick wall starting to rise up from the ground between the dark-haired man and his coworkers. They glared at him with smoldering eyes, and the wall grew bigger and bigger until he could barely see over it. 

His voice shook as his stare landed on the laptop again, the tone haughty and bittersweet. Thunder roared solemnly outside. “So look at what we’ve got now, huh?”

He gestured around the room lightly. 

“A kid, a rat, a coward, and me. And a fuckin’ miserable failing company.” He laughed, a short, frustrated bark. “This is it, I guess. Stocks fall again and we fail and go bankrupt. That’s it, right?” 

“Look Schlatt, I’m sorry, but I don’t think there’s anything we can do.” Connor voiced firmly, eyes locked on his partner, expression unreadable. “The only thing we can try is moving forward, okay? Keepin’ the business up and running for as long as possible, and we can bran—-“ 

“I don’t wanna hear it, man.” Schlatt sighed, running a hand too-roughly through his hair and letting out another weak chuckle. “Enough with the optimism.” 

He breathed out quietly and dropped his gaze to the floor. 

“...I should’ve listened to you from the start. This whole idea was stupid. You were right, Connor. You… you were so fuckin’ right.” 

“H-Hey, don’t talk like that, man!” Ted cried worriedly, wringing his hands as he stepped forward. “We can still fix this!” 

The dark-haired man let out another exhausted laugh and turned around, glassy eyes glued to the door handle as his fingers wrapped tiredly around it. He wanted to say something else, anything else, but the words left his brain as a gentle sigh brushed past his lips. His palm went firm around the cool metal. “Company’s been tankin’ for weeks. I need some sleep, dude. ...It was nice while it lasted, okay? I just… I just tried way too goddamn hard. Goodnight.” 

“Wait!” Ty exclaimed, watching with huge, watery eyes as his boss opened the door and gave them a quick, exhausted wave without looking back. The murky glass surface closed gently behind Schlatt, and the boy could hear his footsteps on the ground, the heavy thuds that had grown so familiar to him fading out as they reached the exit. A low, humming creak and a heavy click floated into the air pointedly before the sound faded from the office and the trio was left standing there, shock and silence stretching out into a murmur. 

Outside, the rain drummed it’s fingers against the window and lightning split the dark clouds. 

—

Connor cursed as he shrugged his jacket off, a gray windbreaker that was at least four sizes too big for him. He had gotten it years ago during a particularly harsh winter, violent snow clawing at his face and wind pummeling his cheeks. It was a thrift store find, and it looked good with almost anything, and he had called Schlatt excitedly to tell him about it. The other man was in the middle of getting chewed out by a previous boss and stopping to answer the phone had gotten him fired, but Connor figured it was worth it. 

His house was huge and dark as he took a step forward, fingers still brushing over the sleeve of his jacket. When his shoe made contact with the polished marble floor, the thud echoed through the area ominously. Standing back, he let his eyes trail over the staircases that led to the upper floors, and a sigh wormed its way past his lips. 

His mind was still reeling with thoughts of the confrontation earlier that night. The way that Schlatt had talked to him… called him a coward, denounced the business. It had stung, each word cutting deep into his chest like a white-hot knife, and after he had climbed exhaustedly into his yellow hummer, he took a minute to press his head against the wheel and scream. 

“I’m not a fucking coward,” he had insisted to himself, each word a pointed, quiet expulsion of fury. But… no matter how many times he said it, it wasn’t enough to convince the brunette that he had been right in holding back, in avoiding confrontation. He always thought he had been doing what was best for the business all along, staying neutral, being the voice of reason, but… after his partner’s biting words, the seed of doubt was thrust into his mind. 

He took a step forward and steeled himself, arms extending to flick the light on, eyes squinting as the glow from the chandelier lit up the room. It was huge and spacious, with a set of four different staircases extending upwards into the ceiling and statues of lions positioned intimidatingly near the front. The marble floor glimmered sophisticatedly from beneath him, and a single huge room lay behind the stairs, double doors thrown open invitingly. His eyes traced over the Corduroy family sigil that was stamped on the wall, and a spike of apprehension worked its way into his chest. 

He could hear faint laughter from straight ahead, and he unlaced his shoes and tossed them near the front door suspiciously. Inching forward, he could see a warm yellow light spilling from the main room, and his quiet footsteps reverberated through the space as he made his way towards it. His breath grew hot and heavy as the voices grew louder. 

“...Ah, yes, I should…. my son, he runs….. of course…” 

“Nonsense, Mr. Corduroy…. I always….. of course we could….. ah, thank you.”

Connor’s heart picked up speed as he strode forwards faster, the chill of the floor sinking into his steps, and his palm connected with the thick wood of the door as he shoved it open. The bright light of the conference room bathed his body as his eyes widened, locking into the scene that unfolded in front of him. 

His father was sitting at the head of the conference table, hands clasped together over the wooden surface professionally as he chuckled warmly at the man perched on the chair next to his. He was stout, rounder than his son, with flushed cheeks and old eyes that seemed to command whatever room he was in. His short brown hair was brushed and gelled to perfection, a black comb peeking out of his pocket, and he gave his son a quick nod as he entered the room. 

And sitting crosslegged on the plush chair next to him… was Techno. 

His lanky arms rested smugly on the oak surface in front of him, and his shoulders shook as he let out a friendly chuckle. The door creaked loudly, letting out an attention-grabbing wail, and the bespectacled man snapped his head to the side quickly. Eyes darkening, a faint smile began to dance over his lips. 

“Ah, Mr. Corduroy! This must be your son Connor, right? I don’t believe we’ve met before!” 

Connor stepped back, horrified, a light stammer escaping his clogged throat. “You… you…” 

Techno strode across the floor quickly and planted himself in front of the brunette, looking down with devilish eyes. He looked down and offered his hand to the other man with a honeyed grin. “Pleasure to meet you.” 

“You’re back late.” Mr. Corduroy mentioned gruffly, rising from his chair and crossing his arms expectantly. “You’re out all the time these days.” 

“Well, he’s probably busy with his business, after all. I know that he HAD to be busy looking at something or another.” Techno replied, turning on his heel and striding over to the bigger man. His overly white teeth flashed as another triumphant smile lit up his face. “Doesn’t it make you proud, to see your son following in your footsteps?”

Connor folded his arms across his chest, seething as his jaw clenched angrily. What the hell was this prick doing in his house?! “Why are you here, Techno?” 

The bespectacled brunette let out a piercingly fake shocked gasp as he turned to look expectantly at Mr. Corduroy, who gave his son a relenting, apologetic nod. “You didn’t tell him..? I’m sorry, should I have mentioned it?” 

Mr. Corduroy held out a firm hand. “No, it’s about time that I tell him myself anyways. Son… I know you and your friend’s little business is important to you, but I just saw such potential within Mr. Techno here. I was his first investor about a month and a half ago, and, since the company grew, we’re planning on successfully starting a merger with Technocracy. Think of the success that could come about by joining forces with the biggest cryptocurrency in New York.” 

Connor felt the air leave his lungs as his gaze settled hopelessly upon his dad’s beaming face. His hands felt numb and his face grew hot with anger as he stared at the pair in front of him, incredulous as his dad glanced at his son expectantly. A trail of clipped, strangled words barely blemished the silence that stretched between the men. 

“My… my little business…? D-dad… I….” 

“Now I know it might sting a bit to hear I was working with a competitor, but listen son,” Mr. Corduroy interrupted excitedly, holding up a finger to quiet the horrified brunette, “If you’re worried that your source of income will be lost, forget about it, okay? I did this for us, so we could benefit from the shared interests of Technocracy. Connor… how happy are you at your company right now?”

His throat went dry when he realized he couldn’t even answer. 

“I see how much it stresses you out. You come home every day and complain about your situation, and then spend the next couple of hours doing paperwork! I’ve never liked that Schlatt fellow anyways, he’s a bad egg. And… and I think this would be a good opportunity for you either way, don’t you think?” 

Connor’s head snapped upwards as his ears clung onto a specific part of his dad’s statement. “Wh… what good opportunity are you talking about..?” 

Techno stepped forward calculatedly, bringing a hand up to adjust his glasses as he stared the brunette down. He glanced backwards at the taller, stocky man, then back at his opponent with an unreadable expression. “Mr. Corduroy, would you mind if I explained the situation?” 

“Not at all.” Came the gruff reply.

“Connor,” Techno started, eyes glittering as his fingertips touched professionally. “The real reason I came here tonight, believe it or not, was to talk to you. I have a proposition for you, if you’d be so gracious as to hear me out.” 

The brunette was too weak to form words, and instead just nodded slowly, vision blurring together as the man standing across from him stepped forward. 

“See, my business has really been taking off recently, as you, ah… might’ve guessed. The problem with that whole thing is that the workload has become too much for even the most skilled members of my staff.” He continued, never dropping the triumphant tone or the confident stare. “That’s where you come in. See, Connor…” 

... I want YOU.” 

The brunette felt his eyes widen as he looked scathingly between Techno and his father, who watched on with a contemplative stare. His arms instinctively folded across his chest, and just as he started to open his mouth, the towering man continued. 

“Before you say no, man, hear me out. I KNOW about the frustration that can come with running a business like this with the lot of guys you’ve been given. I KNOW that you stay up late playing catch-up for your incompetent coworkers, I KNOW how Schlatt treats you.” 

“How the fuck would you know how he treats me?” Connor spat, but his voice wavered slightly when he spoke. The sound of his partner’s biting shouts came flooding back into his mind like a raging river, and it took him all he had to suppress the memories of the same thing happening a thousand times before. His heart dropped roughly as he slowly realized that maybe Techno had a point, and as he ran his burning glare over the bespectacled man, he felt his blood turn into ice. 

“I witnessed it firsthand when we met at the con, remember? I was honestly taken aback that you weren’t the one running the show, Connor, you’re definitely the best of the bunch. Wouldn’t it feel good to be in charge for once, ah?” Techno smiled plaintively, opening his palms to the sky, gesturing quickly to the room around him. “But I wanna offer you a solution to all that, something to make those guys pale in their forty dollar dress shoes.

I want you to have a position at my company, Connor. Senior Management Executive. What do you say?” 

The brunette took a step back in heated shock, mind racing and jumbled with a million different thoughts at once. Why was Techno coming to him? Was this just a ploy? A tactic? Or was… was a career presenting itself? His eyes were huge and unblinking as he stared in despair at the man facing off with him, hands trembling and breaths coming in shallow gasps, and he nearly doubled over when the thoughts came rushing back. 

Why didn’t he just take the opportunity? The little voice in his head cried out indignantly, and he could feel the sharp spike of conflicted agony worm it’s way into his stomach. He had yet to be really, truly content with his line of work, his late nights filing paperwork, his constant fights with the man he considered his best friend. He hated himself for thinking it, but maybe… just maybe, he could have a better life playing for the other team. 

Techno cleared his throat nonchalantly. “Of course, there’s the discussion of pay. I’m willing to give you a hefty salary in exchange for your work. Think… 150K a year.” 

Connor couldn’t stifle the gasp that burst from his throat when the number reached his ears. That was a whole 50K more than he was getting at Schlattcoin, for much less work. Techno’s eyes flashed when he saw the other man’s reaction, and he let a winning grin dance smugly over his lips. 

“Truth is, Connor, you’re talented. You are. I wouldn’t have contacted you if you weren’t.” He conceded, looking over his shoulder at the towering figure that stood observant behind them. “I can SEE that potential in you! You’re the brains in the operation, the reason why it’s survived this far! You can abandon those morons at your old job and come work for me full time, and get all the money and luxury you deserve!” 

The brunette was silent as he listened. 

“Let’s face it. Schlattcoin is a sinking ship. It’s not going anywhere underneath my… OUR shadow, and… I think we BOTH know that. It’s bound to crash and burn any day now, wouldn’t you say? It’s better to jump ship earlier rather than later… you wouldn’t wanna get caught up and drown, now would you?” 

Wordlessly, Techno held out a pale hand, fingers outstretched to the man standing across from him. His words were triumphant and firm, an insistence rather than a question, and each word that tumbled from his lips hit Connor with the force of a sharp blow.

“Join me, Connor Corduroy. Work for me. With Technocracy, you get money, benefits, appreciation. You deserve to put your skills to use somewhere where they’re recognized. Schlatt and Ty and Ted, they don’t GET people like you and me, they don’t understand. They’re dragging you down, they’re ALL dragging you down, but with my company, there’s nowhere to go but up, don’t you get it?“ Techno took a short breath, lips curling up in a smile that seemed to scream, ‘I’ve already won!’. His words were low and taunting. 

“...I trust you to make the right decision.” 

Connor’s eyes traced the outline of the other man’s hand, his voice echoing in the brunette’s head over and over, making his temples throb painfully. It was true, everything was true. He couldn’t remember the last time that Schlatt had praised his work or even acknowledged it, couldn’t recall ever feeling like his contributions to the company even mattered. He had kept the resentment bottled up for so long that Techno’s speech had caused the glass to shatter, flinging sharp fragments around in his stomach, leaving a dull ache that Connor couldn’t identify. 

What was so bad about switching teams? Sure, the guys would never talk to him again, and… and sure, he’d lose the only friend he’d ever had since middle school, but there was a cost for everything, right? A cost for creating a startup, for screwing over the wrong guy, for killing a man in cold blood at the edge of a whispering wharf. Connor could still smell the blood and see the frantic, desperate glow in Schlatt’s eyes as he stared at the hitman in horror, hands covered in the ripe crimson liquid. His heart pounded against his chest as the memories came flooding back, and his hand nearly shot out instinctively to shake the other man’s… but something stopped him. 

It was a glimmer. A glimmer of something bright, something touching, something that pushed against his subconscious and begged to be free. Connor realized what it was too late, and before he could even react, his mind warped the room around him into a peaceful, sunkissed park. The glimmer was hope.

“And I’m sorry for yellin’.” 

The brunette looked down in shock at the place where Techno had stood, seeing instead the glittering, sheepish eyes of his partner. Schlatt let out a good-natured chuckle and tugged at his old white dress shirt from months past. 

“No you’re not,” Connor heard himself say, coupled with a carefree, amused laugh. The warm breeze ruffled his hair, and the light from the sun bounced off of every surface. Everything was blurry, and he didn’t know why. 

“No, I’m not,” Schlatt conceded, giving his partner a small smile, reaching up to punch the man lightly on his shoulder. “I’ll tell you what, though, I’m still not gonna answer if that guy from this mornin’ calls me back.”

A pause as the colors shifted like murky water. 

“Thank you, man.” Schlatt’s voice echoed through the dream-like fog of the park, small and caring and genuine as they walked back to the yellow hummer. Connor felt his steps get heavier, like he was wading through water, and his heart swelled when he heard the other man speak up again. “Thanks for everythin’. This business is… well, it’s gonna be the best thing that ever happened to us. Just you wait, Connor.

...Just you wait.” 

The brunette blinked, and instantly, the scene was gone, and he was left staring blankly at the pale hand outstretched in front of him. The air was cold and demanding, and as he snapped back into it, he glared first at Techno’s smoldering eyes, then at the door. The bespectacled man scoffed impatiently.

“Well? What’s your answer?” 

Connor paused, and stared back at his dad with a fiery, determined expression. He cleared his throat matter-of-factly and adjusted his tie with clean, precise motions.

“You wanna know my answer?” He announced, voice loud and confident as it echoed through the conference room. His eyebrows furrowed angrily. 

“Go fuck yourself, bitch. Keep your filthy money AND your washed-up company, I don’t want any part in it.” 

Techno’s face fell incredulously as he watched Connor stride towards the door, steps sure and confident as he wrapped a steady hand around the doorknob. The thick oak swung open swiftly, and he stepped outside, oblivious to the bespectacled man’s enraged stammers, before stopping suddenly in his tracks. 

When he turned around, his face was bittersweet and serious. “Oh, and… dad..?” 

Mr. Corduroy paused for a second, eyes still wide and unbelieving, and he managed to get out a quick, clipped word. 

“Yes..?” 

“Don’t bother calling me anymore. Goodnight.” 

The door slammed shut, the rain died down, and the gray coat was lifted off of its perch for another journey as a Connor Corduroy left the mansion behind.


	10. Not Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> techno = bad man

The rain had soaked through Connor’s clothes, freezing cold and uncomfortably damp against his skin, and as he splintered his knuckles hammering against the locked wooden door, he felt a fire burning in his chest. His throat was clogged from the chilly wind, chest tight and eyes blazing, and as he heard the hollow thuds echo into the night, he cursed under his breath. Angry footsteps thumped against the floor from inside the apartment, and as the lock began to click, the brunette stepped back to meet a disgruntled Schlatt’s eyes. 

“What the fuck are you doin’ here—-“ 

Lunging forward, Connor’s hands shot out and gripped his partner’s shoulders tightly, fingers digging into the gray pajama cloth. “Listen to me, man.” 

Schlatt’s stare widened in shock as he stumbled back slightly, mouth agape as he started to speak, but he was interrupted again by the intense words that flew like arrows between the two. 

“You can’t give up the business. You can’t do this.” 

The dark-haired man snorted. “And why not? It’s all turned to shit anyways, what’s the point?” 

Connor’s eyes flashed, and his arm went rigid as he shook his partner firmly. “No. Shut up. Quit saying that. I know you, man. I’ve known you for seven years now, and I know the type of guy you are. When you’ve got something you’re passionate about, something you love doing, you NEVER quit! And— and what, you’re just gonna roll over and die because of one setback?!” 

Schlatt stammered slightly, voice quiet as he glanced down at Connor’s hand. Outside, the streetlamps shone intensely on the rain-slicked pavement. “I-I… It’s not just one setback, man.” 

The brunette groaned frustratedly under his breath. “Okay, fine. We’ve had our ups and downs, our share of the shit-pile. And I’ll… I’ll come clean with you. Techno was at my place, and my own fuckin’ father was the one who gave him the money to start his company. He asked… he asked me to join him, and you know what I said?” 

The other man’s face was aghast as he tried in vain to comprehend the words, one shaky hand flying up to wrap around his partner’s wrist. “Wha… what’d you say…?”

Connor threw his arm to the side furiously, eyes fiery as he took a confident step forward into the apartment hall. “I told him to fuck himself! Because of this! Because of you..! Because you’re my best friend, and I believe in you, and I believe in this company! If I didn’t care about this business I’d have left in a heartbeat, but I KNOW that we can do this. I know that we can win! But if you’re just gonna sit down and give up and let Ty go back to running on the streets, and let Ted fall into another money laundering scheme with a half-baked insurance company, then I’m gonna tell you to absolutely FUCK yourself too!” 

There was a moment of silence as the two men stared each other down, breathing heavy and stilted, rain pattering against the ground in a muted buzz. The warm yellow light from outside leaked into the dark hallway, barely shining against the pair as their eyes widened and they stepped away from each other. Schlatt glanced at the floor frustratedly, adjusted the crumpled cloth of his shirt, and cleared his throat.

“...Okay. Okay, Connor. Maybe for once in your life you’re right about somethin’.” 

A tired smile worked its way onto the brunette’s lips, and his shoulders slumped exhaustedly. “Does, uh… does that mean work at eight tomorrow?” 

Schlatt folded his arms across his chest firmly, staring up at his partner with an unwavering glare. “I guess so. But before that, you needa come in and explain EVERYTHING you just said, cuz I’m havin’ a hard time wrappin’ my head around the whole ‘Mr. Corduroy fucked us over’ deal.” 

“Me too,” Connor admitted sheepishly, stepping inside and shaking the rain off of his coat as he closed the door gently behind him. The metal of the doorknob was cold and biting under his fingers, and he gave his partner a soft smile as he turned around. “Actually, uh… I can't really go back home right now either, so…” 

“Tell you what, we’ll find you a place tomorrow, yeah? You’ve got cash and you’re a successful businessman, we’ll come up with somethin’.” Came the determined response, and Schlatt pointed a single, firm finger in the direction of his partner. “But for now, I wanna hear everything, okay? If you’re so set on makin’ our company a success again, we need a game plan.” 

There was a pause as he curled his hands into fists, then turned to head up the shadowed stairs. Connor could feel the fire that burned in his stomach blazing in the other man too, and even as Schlatt’s face was obscured by darkness, he could see his glowing eyes narrow. 

“Starting tomorrow, we’re gonna kick that washed-up businessman’s ass.” 

—

Techno was angry. Granted, he was almost always angry, but there was something about the whole situation that had made rage build up in the pit of his stomach like a nesting viper. He could still see the brunette’s unwavering stare as he metaphorically threw his proposition into the ground and spat on it, head held high even in the face of complete failure. It made Techno sick. 

The rest of his meeting with Mr. Corduroy was brief, snappy, and as he stepped into the parking lot and climbed into his car, he sat in silence in the dark for a couple of minutes. Fingers wrapped around the wheel, the leather biting into his skin, he let out a ragged sigh and slumped his head against the dashboard. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

He wasn’t going to stoop so low as to admit that he looked up to Connor, in a way. He had always been interested in the business world from a young age, and even when he was a kid, he’d steal his dad’s magazines from the top shelf and delve into the world of numbers and stocks and percentages. He had ran into the kitchen with a drawing of him in a suit and tacked it to the fridge, where it stayed until the day he graduated. As he was packing for college, he noticed it sticking out on the stainless steel surface, and had padded slowly across the tiled kitchen to look at it. Yellowed and curled at the edges from years of wear, he picked it up off of the fridge and placed it in a cardboard box that subsequently got lost during the move. 

He had an unnatural talent for the craft of entrepreneurship. Top of his class at the University of New York, the most prolific student in his department was greeted with deafening roars of applause as he triumphantly walked the stage at graduation. Nearly the minute he stepped off the black velvet surface, an investor had snatched him up and funded venture after venture, allowed him to run rampant in the business world. And now, his latest project, Technocracy, was blowing up and rising to heights never seen before. It was successful beyond his dreams, so… why did it feel so empty to arrive every day at his sterile office and watch the clock tick flatly on the wall? 

Techno never dies. And his ideas never die, either. At least, that’s what he’d like to believe. And yet, he knew there was something missing from his sleek, refined crypto, his broad and consumer-friendly app. He knew what it lacked, the glaringly obvious fault that he feared would ruin his company. It didn’t have character. Schlattcoin, with its gleaming yellow shine, its wild grin that enticed people into a world of fun and excitement, had shown Mr. Techno Blade up in that category. It was the first time that he had felt inadequate, and that was why he had wanted Connor on his side to begin with. He needed the help. 

But the brunette had rejected him and his ideals, his cool demeanor, his bleak prediction for the future of the rival company. Techno had been nervous to even talk to the other man, balling his fists into the cloth of his slacks before the meeting, gritting his teeth at the image of failure. And despite all his preparations, the worst had inevitably happened. And it continued to get worse. 

After that day at the Corduroy residence, the shouting match that had been backed by a track of violent rain, Schlattcoin’s stock had risen two percent. It wasn’t a staggering amount by any means, but it was enough to send a spike of fear into Techno’s gut, and he and Carson had stooped over the nearest monitor and shot each other an apprehensive look. A new billboard had appeared on the Manhattan Coastline not even a day later, a beaming, bright yellow that seemed to engulf the city blocks in its joyful light. First came the jump in sales, then came the press conference. 

Three days after the release of the disastrous article, the one that Techno had orchestrated with a smug grin on his lips and a calm arrogance in his heart, Schlatt and Connor had made an appearance at a local business conference. They had graced the stage with a cool charisma and a lovable smile, and sat down in their chairs to smoothly answer any and all questions that the reporters in the crowd had slung their way. 

“Were Mr. Techno’s claims true?” 

“Absolutely not. We’d only sat and talked with him at a coffee shop. Of course we were upset about the whole ripoff thing, but there’s no use gettin’ up in arms over a Walmart version of our brand!” 

A light smattering of laughter had risen from the audience, and Techno could feel his face heat up indignantly as he continued to watch. They had calmly and good-naturedly deflected every accusation that he had thrown at them, and then took the opportunity to advertise for their company, basking in the warmth of triumph. It didn’t seem like any of what Techno had planned could deter them, it only fueled the fire in their company, and their stock had risen another 4 percent not even a day after the conference. 

Techno was beginning to get worried. 

He had sat in his expansive office late after-hours, the space seeming too big and too empty as he pored over his notes, fingers running over the rough lines of spreadsheets and quarterly reports. He buried his head in his hands and let out a muffled groan, listening as the clock called out its rhythmic tick. 

And then, the idea came to him. 

It was a horrible idea. An awful one, a staggeringly evil one, a low that he had never stooped to before. And yet, it was the best plan he had come up with for a while. If Connor couldn’t recognize that it was only a matter of time before his precious backyard business fell, Techno would just have to step in and nudge him in the right direction, that’s all! Make no mistake of it, even though Schlattcoin was on the rise now, it was only a matter of time before it was beat out by the bigger and better sharks in the water. 

And, as Techno came to realize with a triumphant grin on his face and a flash of mirth in his eyes, HE was a Great White Shark. 

—

“Hey! Connor! Ah… it’s Schlatt! Just wonderin’ if maybe you were free this Thursday to get the gang together sometime! Not to be all sappy or anything, but it’s Thanksgiving and I wanna have some of Ted’s ‘famous cannoli’. Hopefully I won’t run over to the trashcan when I take my first bite, huh? …Anyways, call me back if you can, I’m not doin’ anything. ‘Til later, man. Seeya!” 

… 

“Hey, Ty. You-know-who told me you got a new phone and this was your number. That’s cool, maybe you can finally set an alarm and show up to work on time, ah? Besides that, I was wonderin’ if you were available on Thursday? If you’re spending Thanksgiving with your… family, that’s okay too, I’ll only be a little wounded. Stay safe kid, and call me back. That’s not a request.” 

… 

“Ted, it’s me. Hey, listen, I don’t know if you’re busy on Thursday, but I think the others have somethin’ to do. Which is fine, I get it, it’s Thanksgiving and all, right? But I’m just callin’ to ask if you wanna maybe meet up and celebrate the whole press conference situation. I don’t… I’m not really doin’ that much on Thursday, so I could make a little room for you, ah? That bar near D Street sounds pretty good, I’ll even pay if you’re nice to me. Call me back if you can, okay? See you around.” 

Click!

—

Schlatt sat alone at a small booth near the back, pale orange leather digging into his thighs, hands cupped over the cold glass of an untouched beer. A notepad was sitting haphazardly at his side, ballpoint pen discarded near it, and doodles of dragons and smiley faces and rams littered the yellow pages. The happy, energetic sound of pop music echoed through the bar, and he ran a finger around the edge of his glass before letting out a small sigh. 

Reaching down, he pulled out his phone to check his texts for the fifth time, when a jingle at the front door caught his attention. His head snapped up and a grin broke out over his lips when he saw Ted step through the door, swathed in a thick fleece jacket, a bright red scarf draped over his shoulders. The tall man adjusted his glasses, glanced around the room, and gave his boss a short wave as he made his way over to the booth. 

His cheeks were flushed from the cold air as he rubbed his hands together, sitting down gently across from the other man. “Shhhhit, it’s freezing out there. Weird how the weather changes so fast. Hot, cold, hot, cold, it’s like a leftover bowl of pasta that you always heat up but never finish.” 

Schlatt chuckled warmly under his breath. “Yeah, yeah, good to see you too, man.” 

Ted grinned at his employer and sniffled once before snatching up the menu. “Happy Thanksgiving, dude.” 

Soon enough, the pair both had overly large, empty cups of beer laid out in front of them, and were chattering warmly as the evening crowd rolled in. The bar was bustling with life, and the paper turkeys on the walls looked down at them with twinkling eyes. 

“And then I told her, keep the change! You’ll need it!” Ted hollered, bellowing with laughter, leaning against the table as he spoke. The man across from him cackled over-enthusiastically, pounding a single fist against the braised oak, raising concerned looks from the waitresses that passed by. The brunette ran his knuckles underneath his eyes and sighed, still giggling slightly as he turned back to his employer. “Man, I should’ve gone into comedy instead of finance. I’d be starving, but at least my skills would’ve been put to good use, huh?” 

“You can say that again, man,” Schlatt responsed, sighing good-naturedly, words accompanied by a dramatic sweep of the hand. “Y’know… sometimes, I regret this whole crypto thing.” 

Ted’s eyes widened. “Really?” 

The dark-haired man gave him a dismissive wave. “Well, sure. Sometimes it’s more trouble than it’s worth, y’know? It’s stressful, and it’s hard, and there’s times where I wonder whether I could run away and become a massage therapist or some shit.” 

“I’ll bet.” Came the winded response from the brunette as he leaned back in his seat. Schlatt scraped his gaze over the booth and allowed it to rest on his employee for a second before he folded his arms across his chest defensively. 

“Well, I’m sure Mister Money Laundering has a helluva lotta running away stories to tell.” 

Ted chuckled flatly, sipping at his drink, eyeing his boss over the rim of the glass. “Like you wouldn’t believe, dude. I, uh… I worked for a law firm once, out of the Bronx, made a couple thousand after just a few weeks of work. My manager for that place was a real jerk, though, tried to make my life miserable. Well, guess who was stuck cleaning up the mess after I hopped out of there?” 

Schlatt folded his hands together cautiously and gave the brunette a sideways glance. “Just how many businesses have you stolen from?” 

Ted grinned, eyes flashing in the warm yellow light. “Too many to count.” 

The other man let out an indignant snort. “Well, I guess that proves my theory that I DEFINITELY shouldn’t have hired you.” 

“Probably not,” the brunette admitted sheepishly, stacking the cups on end and nudging them to the end of the table with a slender finger. “But hey, it all worked out in the end, right? I’m here now and I’m not planning on robbing you, so win-win. Actually…” 

He paused for a second, let out a soft breath of air, and when he looked up, Schlatt could see a genuine glimmer in Ted’s deep brown eyes. 

“I’m glad I met you, man.” He continued, voice sunny and firm, as if he was trying to imprint it into the other man’s brain. “This whole operation, this company… it’s really changed things for me, y’know? I always thought that before, when I was a… criminal, I’d never get to settle down or anything. I thought that I’d never find a business where I’d get along and actually feel like a PART of something, like I wasn’t just the idiot accountant that they paid too little.” 

He sighed softly, then let out a small laugh. “And then I walked into your office and got scared shitless by you and Connor, and I guess… that was it. My chance. I could do what I was known for and not have to run anymore, I didn’t have to make connections with people just to pack up and leave it all behind like I always do. The ‘life of crime’ or whatever is so fucking overrated. Schlatt… this is the longest I’ve been in a single place, and I gotta say… it’s nice, man.” 

“I’ve got an apartment off of West and Broad and it’s really nice. I started looking into going to college again and I think I have everything together to start soon! And… and I met someone, too. She’s amazing, and I think that maybe this time I might I have a shot. Things are really starting to look up for me, Schlatt, and it’s because of you, whether you acknowledge it or not. ...Thank you, man.” 

The dark-haired man across the table sat in stunned silence as Ted finished speaking, reaching up to adjust his round glasses with a warm grin. The bar has quieted to a buzzing chatter, the smell of cinnamon and muted happiness curling through the air, and Schlatt could only blink his shocked eyes at the words that had tumbled out of his employee’s mouth. He had never known any of this, anything that Ted had said about his past or his glowing present, and he simply sat rigid in his seat as he tried to comprehend each sentence. It was… because of him? Because of the business? 

“Ah, my bad for dumping all that on you,” Ted chuckled sheepishly, leaning back tiredly in his seat, a good-natured sigh escaping his lips. Schlatt snapped out of his thoughts and looked upwards quickly, hands pressed together on top of the table. “I know you probably just wanted to get outta the house to have some fun, and here I am getting all sentimental and shit.” 

The dark-haired man nodded absently. 

“I just figured it was Thanksgiving and all, might as well tell everyone I appreciate that I’m thankful for them before it’s too late, huh? Might not get a chance at this, you never know when a bus can swerve around the corner and flatten you.” Ted’s mischievous smile has wormed its way back onto his face, and he let out a muffled yawn as he shrugged his jacket back onto his shoulders. The door to the bar opened, and a chilly breeze wafted into the room, causing Schlatt to shiver slightly. 

“You, ah… you gotta go?” He asked, glancing at his employee as he rose out of his seat, running a pale hand through his hair. Ted nodded, beaming brightly, and twisted the bright red scarf around his throat. 

“Remember the girl I told you about? She invited me over to her place too. Call me popular or something, huh?” The brunette fixed his glasses, zipped up his jacket, and held an arm out to the still-wordless Schlatt. They shook hands firmly, and the chatter in the bar started up again, gradually getting louder. Ted raised his voice slightly, giving the other man a winning grin before he spoke. “Oh, and Schlatt?” 

“Yeah?”

“Happy Thanksgiving, dude. Hope it’s been treating you right.” 

And with that, he was out the door, pushing the frosted glass aside and kicking up a flurry of freezing snow. 

—

“And… one more, one more…” 

…

“YES..!” 

The office erupted into an uproarious cheer as the four people crowded around the laptop embraced each other, beaming brilliantly and shaking with relieved laughter. Connor ruffled Ty’s hair fondly as the younger boy stared in awe at the computer screen, eyes wide and sparkling. Schlatt and Ted high-fived and let out jubilous shouts of joy, screaming obscenities at the walls. 

“We did it, baby!” Ted yelled, glasses askew on his face. “Three million downloads!” 

“Three whole million people have our app on their phone?” Ty wondered aloud, amazed as he rubbed his eyes as stared at the screen again, unable to comprehend the staggering number. Behind him, Schlatt and Connor had thrown their arms around each other and whooped happily, ties thrown over each other’s shoulders. “That’s crazy! That’s insane! That’s… that’s…” 

“Better than that second-rate Technobitch, that’s for sure!” Schlatt cried, words followed by a burst of laughter. “Of course, we don’t gotta worry about him anymore! We’re sailin’, baby! Blue skies from here on!” 

The brilliant sun outside almost seemed to wink at them, bright rays of light flooding in through the wall-length windows, filling the air with homely warmth. It was a far cry from the sterile office that it had been when the trio took their first step inside, crisp and cold and utterly unlike them, but as they continued to grow inside of it, the place had changed.

Ty’s comic book doodles had been tacked onto the walls, breaking the building’s rules for no damage to any surfaces, boldly colored superheroes and villains almost popping out of the pages. Connor’s vintage record player was propped up against his desk, with a milk crate full of huge vinyls laying next to it invitingly. Near the door, Ted had planted a row of succulents and set up a clothes rack, which was packed to the brim with fashionable jackets and ties. And in his room, on the corner of the faux wood desk and almost obscured with papers, Schlatt’s picture frame showcased a photo of the four, grinning widely in front of the entrance to their office. 

It had transformed almost completely from the cold space that they had to work with in the beginning. Now… it had character. It had the one thing that their biggest rival was aiming for from the very beginning… a bond. 

Schlatt’s heart dropped, and he didn’t know why. 

There was a loud, flat knock at the door, one that echoed through the office like a gunshot. The four stopped celebrating and looked up in confusion, the happy solace that had enveloped them before evaporating into thin air. Connor took a step forward. 

“Are we expecting anyone?” He asked, looking back at his partner, eyes narrowed and apprehensive. Schlatt shook his head and pushed past the brunette, a light sheen of cold sweat breaking out on his skin, a chill running through his body. He strode across the carpeted floor and reached the door in no time, shooting an arm out as he wrapped his fingers around the metal handle. With a quick tug, he heard the click and felt it open. 

His eyes widened.

Standing in front of the door were two tall men, dark blue uniforms draped professionally over their shoulders, a gleaming black and yellow badge on their chest. The one closest to the office had bright hair the color of corn, and he stooped down a bit, clearing his throat before speaking in a thick, gravelly voice.

“Hi, I’m Officer McHann. Is a man by the name of Ted Nivison here right now?” 

Schlatt felt time stand still. He could feel the lump forming in his throat, cold and hard, the dread that spiked in his stomach, the rapid thoughts that barreled through his head. He let out a weak stammer, his breath hitching in his chest. 

“Wh… wha… why do you wanna know?” 

The blonde officer glanced at his partner with steely eyes, then returned a level gaze to the man in front of him. “I have a warrant here for his arrest, and a tip from an anonymous informant that tells me he might be employed with you under a pseudonym.” 

Schlatt heard a sharp gasp echo from behind him, and he couldn’t tell whether it was Connor or Ty. Planting his feet rigidly, he felt his fingers tighten around the doorknob, knuckles white and breathing shallow. He felt a bit dizzy, and the room seemed to spin around him, the clouds outside blotting out the sun. “He’s… not here. Go away.” 

There was a slight pause before the officers took an intimidating step forward, and, without thinking, Schlatt’s grip loosened around the doorknob and he stumbled back in fear. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. Their boots ate into the carpet as they burst into the office, and Connor let out an indignant shout and tugged Ty closer, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy protectively.

“Get the hell out of here!” The brunette yelled, voice shaky and furious as it ripped out of his throat. “We know the law! This is… this is…!” 

“It’s okay.” 

Schlatt whirled around suddenly as the calm, trembling voice echoed through the office, quiet and insistent as it reached the group’s ears. The officers stood their ground firmly, watching as Ted stepped forward on shaky legs, eyes wide and glassy. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it, then reached up to slowly adjust his glasses. 

“Who would’ve known, huh?” He attempted to laugh, but the sound was choked and weak, slicing through Schlatt’s heart like a burning knife. “I, uh… I guess I should be glad it didn’t happen sooner.” 

“Ted! No..!!” Ty’s distraught cries echoed through the air as he scrambled to get out of Connor’s grip, tears welling up in his eyes as he punched and kicked at the man holding him back. Behind him, Connor just stared, face blank and hands steady, watching with a horrified stare as the scene unfolded painfully in front of him.

The officers nodded at each other and advanced towards the brunette, causing his eyes to widen suddenly in hopeless realization, hands shaking as he brought them up apprehensively. His face was deathly pale, panic dancing jaggedly in his every movement, and he let out a strangled noise as the blonde officer moved in behind him, causing the click of handcuffs to spike through the air. Schlatt’s heart pounded in his chest, thudding against his ribcage, but when he opened his mouth, no sound came out. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ted stammered, voice barely a whisper as his eyes darted desperately around the room. Schlatt could see the despair in his face as his mind raced with thoughts, thoughts of his past, his present… his future. He strained against the handcuffs as he was shoved forward. “N-No, wait, not like this. Not now.” 

“Ted…” Ty sobbed, burying his head in his hands, too weak to continue straining against the man behind him. From his place on the floor, Schlatt could feel the blood rushing in his ears, roaring like an angry tide, and it took everything he had to stop himself from screaming. It was Techno. …It had to be Techno. His heart sank into the floor and he felt his eyes blur.

The officer cleared his throat. “Ted Nivison, you are under arrest for multiple counts of tax fraud and money laundering. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” 

“Wait! Wait! Stop!” Ted shouted, kicking against the worn tan carpet, struggling tearfully as the soles of his sharp dress shoes scraped the ground. Schlatt remembered when he bought those shoes for the first time, proud and excited to be wearing something expensive for once. He had strolled into the office with the biggest smile on his face, gave Connor a mischievous wink, and had subsequently gotten upset when no one realized that they were new. He had spent the rest of the day playfully ignoring his coworkers and printing out pictures of the shoes from Google, hiding the black and white prints all around the office to be found later. 

Now, they were scuffed and dirty, lined with scratches and burns, hardly the shiny black that they had been just weeks before. Before they had ever gone to the conference, before they heard of Technocracy, before the body in the wharf and before the brunette had ever walked confidently into their office. Schlatt could see it now, his dazzling smile, his evenly combed hair, the friendly handshake that he had given the founding pair at the start of the interview.

“Hi! Ted Nivison, pleasure to meet you!” 

Ted’s real voice pierced through the memory like a dagger, his voice raw and desperate as he struggled in the officers’ grip. “Stop! Please! Not now..!” 

His fingers scrabbled at thin air as the three left in the office watched him get dragged towards the door, the shouts of the policemen to ‘stop resisting’ fading into the background, replaced with only the hopeless cries of a man that knew he was doomed. His eyes were wide, glassy, frantic, breathing harsh and shallow, and as the officers shoved past Schlatt and reached the door, him and Ted met gazes for the last time. 

The look on his face wasn’t one of anger or regret. A genuine apology was the only thing painted on his features, quiet and grim, the stare of a resigned fate. 

The door slammed shut, and Ted was gone.

Schlatt staggered to the side like a lead weight, knees hitting the floor, palms grinding into the carpet as he gasped for air. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. There was no way that was real, it couldn’t be. His mind raced through every happy memory that he had had with the man, every laugh and triumphant holler, every heartfelt conversation, every late-night work session. The words from the bar echoed in his mind, the kind thank-you’s, the appreciative murmurs, and he felt his head swim faintly as the sounds of the outside world finally came flooding in again. 

A harsh ringing echoed in his ears as he heard Connor speak from behind him. The office was dark and sparking with tension, and the brunette’s words echoed through the back of his mind. From somewhere in the background, the dark-haired man could hear Ty mumbling incoherent, muffled sentences.

“Schlatt… you… you know what this means.” Came the shaky voice. “You know what this all means.” 

It took a long time for the unmoving man on the floor to respond, and when he did, it was like a bottle of venomous rage had been uncorked inside the pit of his stomach. “What… what does it mean…? That our coworker, our FRIEND, was sentenced to prison because of that fuckin’ LYING CHEATING BACKSTABBING SON OF A—“ 

“It means they’re onto us.” Connor interjected quietly, voice firm as he held his arm around Ty, eyes piercing as they stared down at Schlatt. He swallowed past a lump in his throat, and when he spoke again, his tone was raspy and full of dread. “It… it means that if they caught one of us, they have to suspect the whole company for fraud. You get that, don’t you..? T-Ted was the first, but we’re all gonna follow after him if they keep the investigation going.” 

Schlatt’s eyes widened and he sucked in a breath of shocked air. 

The next sentence was slow, deliberate, fearful. “...You need to call the Family.” 

The dark-haired man shot to his feet, nearly stumbled again, and felt his head swim. Hot, angry adrenaline coursed through his veins, and he could feel the burning blood boiling under his skin. His eyes were still wide and raw with shock, and he couldn’t bring himself to even take a step towards the door. 

Connor raised his voice shakily. “Schlatt, call the Family.” 

Schlatt grit his teeth and curled his fingers into fists. He couldn’t move, and panic washed over him like a wave. It was all too much, the hopeless sounds, the horrifying sight of Ted being dragged to prison, the thought that if he never would’ve met the man, he’d be okay right now. He’d be living free. It was all his fault. 

And then, the last, grating scream. 

“CALL THE FAMILY, NOW..!!” 

In a violent flash, Schlatt burst through the door and sprinted down the stairs, barreling into the cold evening air and leaving Wall Street as fast as his legs could take him.


	11. announcement, sorry :(

hey guys, i just wanted to come on here and let you all know that because of what carson said in his stream last night, i’ll be canceling and discontinuing my mafia fic. 

he was every right to not be okay with bein portrayed as a character and i recognize that i’ve probably overstepped boundaries. my fic doesn’t come from a place of weird creepy obsession, it comes from a place of genuine admiration for the creators whose content i enjoy, but ill be deleting it from almost every platform it’s on. my intentions are DEFINITELY not to make them uncomfortable in any way, and it’s because of that that i’ll be abandoning my project.

i’m very sorry to you all to have left it on a bad note, but if you want, i can make a short chapter with all my storywritin notes in it so you can see how it was supposed to end. it’s been a wild ride creatin this fic that i loved so much, but i recognize that it’s not okay to continue it anymore. it IS a bit sad to have to abandon this fic that i’ve poured so much of my time, effort, and heart into, but i’m sure this is for the best. thank you all so much for the support and comments, it’s always made my day and i appreciate all the feedback so much. ill be usin this time to work on other projects, so look forward to that!

thank you all so much for this good run! it’s been fun, but i need to respect the streamers’ very valid wishes and delete or discontinue it. 

love you all! thank you so much for the support!!


	12. update!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for waiting so long to give you guys the closure you wanted :( here it is!

hey everyone, i know it’s been months and months since i decided that i wanted to discontinue this story, and at the time i was going to offer no followup, but i got inspired recently to let you all know how this story would’ve ended! below, i’ve compiled all my notes for my writing and how exactly everything was going to play out. for everyone reading this, thank you so much for the continued support. i’m just a 15 year old high school student with not much time on my hands and it meant the world to me to see you guys really enjoy what i write. im currently working on another project that i might post here as well, so if you do enjoy what i do, stay tuned for that! without further ado, here’s the summary of my notes for the ending :) this takes place right after ted’s arrest. 

Schlatt, in shock from seeing Ted dragged away, runs as fast as he can over to the boardwalk and tells Don Ivano that he wants Techno dead no matter the cost. Don Ivano agrees, and they form a plan to assassinate Techno the next weekend. Connor is horrified at first, but Ty agrees with Schlatt’s plan and the pair end up coming around after seeing just how far Techno is willing to go to crush their company. The weekend comes and goes, relatively quiet, with no calls from any Family members. Schlatt Co. attends a business conference the Monday after, and Schlatt is smug about his victory. 

However… mere seconds after the conference starts, Techno bursts through the doors and makes a stylish entrance, absolutely unscathed. He winks at the Schlatt Co. members who are dumbfounded, furious that he’s alive, and the conference continues while the trio stews. They go home and debate how he could’ve survived, with Don Ivano on the line informing them that the person that he sent to kill Techno, some low-level thug, has gone missing. Schlatt, confused and determined to win his power back, calls another hit on Techno, this time, in an alley where they set up a camera to see exactly what happens. 

Schlatt, Connor, and Ty crowd around a laptop that the camera feed is streaming on, and watch as the hitman corners Techno. Suddenly, pulling out a knife, Techno fights the hitman skillfully, stabbing him in the chest before leaving the alley and blowing a kiss to the camera. The camera then gets destroyed, which leaves Schlatt Co. horrified at the fact that he was able to successfully combat an assassin. 

Schlatt and Don Ivano realize that now, Techno will likely take the matter of stopping future hits into his own hands, and that they need to find a way to stop him before Schlatt, Connor, or Ty’s lives are in danger. Don Ivano talks to Noah Hugbox, a private investigator, who discovers Techno’s real name as well as the names and addresses of his family and friends. Delighted with this knowledge, Schlatt calls Techno and tells him to meet on the wharf… the same port area where he killed Daire’s hitman originally. 

Keeping this information secret from Connor and Ty, Schlatt greets Techno alone at the wharf, saying his full name and causing Techno to freeze in his tracks. Schlatt taunts him, and alludes to the fact that he’s also taken out a hitman before. He reveals that he knows the location of his family and friends and have hits out on all of them, and assassins are watching and ready to take them out with a single shot. Techno is devastated and unable to respond, instead trying to lunge forward and attack Schlatt. Schlatt, however, pulls a receiver out of his back pocket and reminds Techno that he can give the word to the assassins at any time. Schlatt presents him with a contract to sign away his company, and Techno, horrified, signs it blankly. Their biggest competitor’s company has now been legally transferred to Schlatt Co. 

Schlatt calls Connor and tells him excitedly that the company is theirs, and Connor is immediately suspicious and demands to know how the deal was made. Schlatt tells him the whole story... then reveals that the entire thing was a ruse: that he didn’t have hits out on Techno’s family, he was just bluffing. Connor is taken aback by Schlatt’s actions, and wonders what exactly he’s capable of. 

Schlatt visits Ted in prison and explains everything to him, however, Ted is shocked and horrified at the lengths that his employer went to and blows up at him. Eventually, Ted remarks that he doesn’t even recognize Schlatt anymore, and leaves the visiting area. Schlatt is still oblivious to the fact that he did anything wrong, and is confused to why Ted is upset.

A mere couple of weeks after Technocracy was sold and the stock price of the company skyrockets, Connor gets a call from the biggest security company in Manhattan… Sun Whale Inc. The joint CEOs invite Schlatt Co. to do a merger of their companies, and encourage Schlatt and Ty to come down to meet with them. Schlatt is suspicious, but Ty convinces him to go for the good of the company. 

When they get there, Schlatt and Ty are astounded at the size of the building and the obvious luxury inside. They walk into the main area and meet with Cooper and Travis, the joint CEOs of Sun Whale. Cooper handles relations and the overall image of the company, while Travis explains that he handles finances. The two pairs hit it off very well, and agree to a temporary merger of their companies in order to increase their profits! When they arrive home, Connor is shocked and hurt that Schlatt made the decision without him, but Schlatt assures him that he knows best and Connor would’ve come to the same conclusion. 

Both companies continue getting richer and richer, and with their newfound riches come magazine covers, sponsors, advertisements, etc. Schlatt’s ego is getting to him, and he begins making reckless decisions without consulting both Connor and Ty, and Cooper and Travis. The company gets a new building to move into, including a huge billboard on a side wall with the company logo on the side, and Schlatt grinning and endorsing it. Cooper and Travis begin getting frustrated with his behavior, and slowly… a plan begins to form. 

One day, while Schlatt comes back from another interview (of which these are becoming commonplace), he gets a call from Cooper and Travis asking him to come down to Sun Whale HQ. Schlatt arrives in high fashion, tipping the doorman and practically sauntering into the room, only to find Cooper and Travis sitting smugly with tight grins on their faces. They inform him that, due to his reckless behavior, they’ve put in the work necessary to do a legal hostile takeover of Schlatt Co., successfully being able to subsidize it at the drop of a hat. Furious, Schlatt attempts to argue against it and begins to get physical, faltering when bodyguards fill the room. He hisses through gritted teeth that this isn’t over, and leaves Sun Whale angrily.

He tells Connor and Ty, who are shocked, the former slightly satisfied that his warnings about Schlatt’s behavior turned out to be correct. Over the next couple of weeks, Schlatt’s pride is checked time and time again when either Cooper or Travis smugly turn down his ideas and hang the idea of subsidizing his company over his head. When that isn’t enough to stop him, they threaten to harm Connor and Ty, and Schlatt is horrified at the thought. Finally, frustrated and enraged, he calls the Family. 

Connor finally has enough of Schlatt and threatens (again) to leave the company. He’s hurt by Schlatt’s pride and actions and he doesn’t want to be a part of it anymore. Comforting him, Schlatt promises that everything will be alright as soon as Sun Whale is out of their hair, and Connor nods and accepts his apology. 

One week later, Schlatt contacts Cooper and Travis and asks them to meet with him and Connor, and the pair agree. He gives them the address, an empty club on the outskirts of the city. He and Connor drive there in silence, tension building as Schlatt slips a small remote into his pocket. The pair walk in to find Cooper and Travis already there, anticipating an ambush, but they’re pleasantly surprised to see that Schlatt’s bark is worse than his bite. They talk, the air thick and tense with anger, and Cooper says one final remark, telling Schlatt that he’ll never be more than just their employee and that Sun Whale was going to take over the company whether he liked it or not. 

Schlatt nods in defeat, grabs Connor, and begins walking out of the door, when suddenly he whips the remote out of his pocket, presses a button on it, and dives to the ground. Covering Connor, he screws his eyes shut as suddenly, a barrage of bullets barrel through the wall. The rain of fire is deafening, and as it finally dies down, Cooper and Travis as well as their bodyguards have been taken out. Connor is blank with shock, and Schlatt leads him away from the building. He closes the trunk of his car, which had an automatic firearm rig in it (yes breaking bad style LMFAO), and tells Connor not to worry and that the Family would take care of covering everything up. Connor wraps himself in a blanket and stares in shock out of the window the entire ride home. 

The story cuts to a couple of months in the future. Sun Whale has been consequently subsidized into Schlatt Co., and the trio are making tons of money. Schlatt has moved into a huge house, they finally bought Ty a place of his own, and Connor had successfully cut all ties with his dad and was now making money all on his own. Things are going great, and Schlatt Co. is one of the biggest companies in New York. 

One day, they get invited to an exclusive meeting with Fitz himself, the CEO of the biggest conglomerate in the world, Misfits Entertainment (pretty much the disney of this universe i guess). Schlatt is beyond excited to get to meet his role model, and takes Ty with him as they fly to Australia to have a meeting. Fitz is kind and supportive and offers to mentor Schlatt, to which the other man agrees enthusiastically. However, Ty and Connor both get a bad feeling from him, and try to warn Schlatt against it. Regardless, he takes the opportunity for a mentorship and begins working with Fitz. 

Fitz takes up all of Schlatt’s time. He begins flying to Australia more and more, and eventually Fitz temporarily moves up to his house in New York so the two can work closely. Fitz begins offering him business and practical advice, which Schlatt takes to heart, so much he begins to change the way the company is run. Fitz constantly tells him to disregard those who aren’t worth his time and to not let anyone control him, advice that manifests itself when Schlatt refuses to let Connor or Ty have a say in the way that he runs things. His pride is returning with a vengeance, and he believes that since he’s the CEO, his word is final. 

Then, Schlatt’s attitude begins moving to other facets of his life. When it comes to his weekly meetings with the Family, he’s flippant and rude, believing that since he supports a majority of their ventures financially, that he has the power to veto and make their decisions for them. Connor and Ty try to get him to check his ego and warn him what upsetting the Family will do, but by this point he’s so in over his head that he disregards this advice. 

Finally, during one meeting with the Family, him and Don Ivano get into a heated argument head-to-head, and end up in what almost turns into a physical fight. Leaving the building arrogantly, Schlatt informs them that they need him in order to survive, and that he feels oh-so-sorry, but he’s withdrawing all financial support from them. Don Ivano doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. 

Days later, when Schlatt arrives home, he finds a bloody goat’s head in a package on his door, along with a letter from the Family warning him that he’s going to pay for fucking with them. From across the street, in the distance, a red laser tracking dot suddenly appears on his chest, and his mouth runs dry. Frantically, he races through the house as gunshots echo, gathering together money, his ID, his keys, and whatever valuables he has. He scrambles into his car and the hitman outside tries to shoot out his wheels, but Schlatt drives away into the night in a panicked rush.

Connor and Ty immediately get scared when Schlatt goes missing. They know they can’t contact the police, and Schlatt hasn’t made an effort to contact either of them. Connor, frustrated and terrified, opens up to Ty about the fact that Schlatt was his childhood best friend, his business partner for years, and that he couldn’t bear it if something happened to him. However… as soon as they knew he was safe, Connor was going to cut ties and never speak to him again. Ty agrees that Schlatt has changed for the worse, and the two of them sit together in the merged office in silence. 

Meanwhile, Schlatt, disheveled and panicked, arrives at Fitz’ house. Desperate, he explains to him everything about his work with the Family and that they’re after him. Schlatt begs him to help deal with them… and Fitz laughs. Fitz laughs because he knows he’s got Schlatt exactly where he wanted him, and now that Schlatt has no one to turn to, he can successfully take over his business and impersonate Schlatt on records and paperwork in order to transfer all assets to him. Schlatt screams and struggles as Swagger comes up behind him and knocks him out using chloroform, and he wakes up right where the prologue started. 

Fitz and Swagger interrogate him in an abandoned Misfits Entertainment factory for his information so they can begin the takeover. Suddenly, they hear a noise outside. Both Fitz and Swagger leave Schlatt in his cell and go to investigate the sound and hear footsteps on the metal factory bridge above them. Meanwhile, Ty slips unnoticed into Schlatt’s cell and explains to him how they managed to track his location through his cell phone, which the Misfits has confiscated. Schlatt and Ty have a tearful reunion. 

Outside, Connor leads Fitz and Swagger through the warehouse, breathless as they chase him down all the way to the end of the factory. He finally confronts them on a steel bridge above broken-down machinery. He whips out a gun and points it at the pair, telling them how much Schlatt means to him and how far their dream has come. Fitz taunts him and tells him that he doesn’t believe that Connor would ever pull the trigger, that he’s not a killer like his friends. Torn, Connor’s hands shake as he threatens again to shoot the pair, but suddenly, a gunshot rings out and Connor gasps. He looks down, seeing blood pool on his shirt, and slumps over weakly. 

He’s not dead, but he’s nearly unconscious, breathing shallow. Swagger holds the smoking gun in his hand, and Fitz laments that Connor would’ve been a great addition to their company. Suddenly, rushing up behind the pair, Ty and Schlatt attack Swagger, struggling to wrench the gun away. They eventually throw it off of the bridge, and subsequently, overpower Swagger and send him over the edge as well. Swagger hits the ground and Fitz is horrified, pulling out his own gun and firing at the pair. Suddenly, with a weak breath, Connor braces himself and pulls the trigger, sending a bullet flying out towards Fitz and catching him in the stomach. 

Fitz dies and addresses the trio one last time, asking them if it was worth it. They look up as the cops burst into the warehouse, sending gleaming light into the dark factory. 

Months later, Schlatt, in an orange jumpsuit, attends his trial. As he’s waiting for the trial to begin, the police lead both Connor and Ty into the room as well, and guilt wracks Schlatt’s brain. The other two look solemn, faces downcast and light gone from their eyes. Connor winces as he sits down with his lawyer. The trial begins and Schlatt takes a deep breath. 

With a final decision, knowing there’s nothing he can do for Connor, he decides to stand up for Ty and take the blame. He tells the judge that he was blackmailing Ty, that he forced him to do everything, and that Ty shouldn’t be sentenced. He’s still a young kid, with a life ahead of him that shouldn’t have been wasted by Schlatt. The judge agrees and only gives Ty a probation sentence, sending him home as he and Schlatt exchange one final knowing look. 

He also attempts to take the fall for Connor, yet since both of them are adults, they both get sentenced to years in prison. However, when Schlatt is on the witness stand, he delivers a genuine, heart-wrenching apology to his best friend, and Connor watches on with a heavy expression. 

At the very end, after the trial is over, Schlatt and Connor see each other outside of the courtroom. They talk for the last time, and Connor tells Schlatt that he forgives him, even if he never forgives himself. They promise one another never to speak or get involved with each other again once they got out of prison, and exchange one final hug and goodbye, before leaving the courtroom. 

the end! sorry to end it on such a sad note, but those were my ideas for the ending! i hope you guys enjoyed! once again thank you for all the support, it means so much to me :) keep your eyes peeled if you like my work, for any upcoming stories i write! peace out guys


End file.
